


All Roads

by enchantedteapot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, Mystery, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Post-Hogwarts, Private Investigators, Ravenclaw Scorpius Malfoy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedteapot/pseuds/enchantedteapot
Summary: Teddy Lupin is missing. Scorpius Malfoy, Private Investigator, is hired to look into his disappearance. He soon learns that all roads seemingly lead to Rose.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley, Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley
Comments: 66
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome to 'All Roads', a slightly darker, more serious, more angsty ScoRose story. I've toyed with this plot-line for years, never quite getting round to writing anything. But having recently got back in the saddle with 'The Rumour Mill' (now complete) and remembering what a brilliant distraction writing can be, especially at times such as these, it seemed now was finally the time.
> 
> This won't be as long as TRM - I expect it to turn out at roughly 4 chapters, and the rating is likely to change as we progress (consider this your ScoRose smut warning!).

There’d been something in her voice that evening, something so desperate and vulnerable and helpless in the way she’d asked – no, _begged_ , for his help. Cheeks stained with mascara, twisting at the delicate silver engagement ring on her finger, and just the faintest hint of a fertile swell beneath her blouse that he was far too diplomatic to mention. That was exactly the sort of thing that he was skilled in: seeing what others were trying to hide. And that, after all, was exactly why she was here, pleading with him to take the case.

It was against his usual policy. Never take on a job if it involved people you had any prior connection with. It clouded your judgement, impaired your objectivity, and made it harder to spot the little white lies or subtle suggestions of wrong doing. But there really was something in her voice, and something about her in general – a damsel in distress quality – that meant Scorpius knew he was going to accept almost as soon as she’d walked into the shabby, second-floor alcove he called an office. Besides, he imagined someone like Victoire Weasley was fairly used to getting exactly what she wanted in life. Who was he to disappoint her now?

The task was a simple enough one on paper. A standard missing persons case, if it weren’t for the individuals involved. Ted Remus Lupin – Teddy to his friends and family – had apparently gone missing three weeks after proposing to his girlfriend, Victoire. His last known sighting was at 12 Grimmauld Place (the Potter family residence), where he had attended the weekly Sunday luncheon with his godfather and relatives. That evening, though he had cheerily said his goodbye’s as he floo-ed out of the London townhouse, he had not returned to the flat that he shared with Victoire. And, since that day – almost two weeks ago now – he had not shown up for work at St Mungo’s, nor had he made contact with any of his extended family or responded to their increasingly frantic howlers and owls.

“I know that Uncle Harry is doing everything he can,” Victoire sniffed and pulled at the handkerchief she had clasped between trembling fingers, “and he’s managed to keep it out of all the papers, which I’m so grateful for… It’s just, I need to feel as though _I’m_ doing something to help find Teddy.”

Scorpius nodded and slid her the box of tissues that he kept on his desk for just such occasions. His job involved far too many grieving widows and cuckolded spouses to ever do without ply. 

“I have to ask,” he chose his words delicately, “was everything fine between the two of you? No recent disagreements, problems at home, that sort of thing?”

Victoire gave a quiet little sob but shook her head firmly. “Nothing. I’ve been wracking my mind, trying to think of anything like that but we were happy. We _are_ happy, I mean. Everything was wonderful and then…”

Scorpius tactfully glanced away as a fresh set of tears spilled over her damp cheeks. He was never any good at this part of the job. Sometimes the emotion and vulnerability of his clients could make him feel uncomfortable, as if he had too much power, too much insight into their private lives. He preferred a swindled businessman, an angry dispute over someone’s last will and testament – something that called for stern professionalism rather than a shoulder to cry on.

He cleared his throat and pressed on, “And how did he feel about the pregnancy?”

Victoire’s breath hitched and she blinked up at him, startled. “He -, he doesn’t even know. No one knows. It’s still so early, I hadn’t told... How did you even -?”

Rising swiftly from his chair, Scorpius extended an unwavering hand. “I’d be happy to take the case, Ms Weasley. And I can assure you of my absolute discretion for the duration of my investigation. I will, however, need to ask your permission to approach the other members of your family for any further information I might require?”

Still staring up at him in a stunned, open-mouthed silence, Victoire nodded. “Of course, I can… erm, get you a list?”

“Thank you,” Scorpius guided her swiftly but gently over to the office door. “I’ll be in touch with anything I might find and details of my advance fee. In the meantime, I’d be grateful if you could let your family know I’m looking into the matter. I imagine some of your cousins might be a little… apprehensive about speaking with me.”

Victoire offered him a half smile as she stepped out into the dimly lit corridor. “Oh, I doubt James will mind. I’m sure all that schoolyard Quidditch nonsense is behind you both these days.”

He smiled, tightly, and bid her goodnight, watching her disappear down the narrow staircase and out into the street below. He stood for a moment in the open doorway, listening to the muffled chatter from the cauldron shop on the floor beneath, before leaning back against the frosted glass of his office door with a sigh.

If it were only James Potter and old Hogwarts team rivalries he had to worry about, he’d be almost ecstatic to work such a high-profile case. It wasn’t that he needed the money, the business was going from strength to strength, always a suspicious spouse or feuding family desperate to enlist his analytical and deductive skills. But with this case, he’d be working for arguably one of the most famous families in Wizarding Britain. That kind of clientele could open some serious doors.

If only all members of that family would be happy to hear he was involved, he thought, ruefully.

Turning to head back to his desk, he glanced at the words etched across the frosted glass. The black lettering needed replacing – the ‘p’ and ‘v’ had almost completely faded, declaring to the outside world that _Scor ius Malfoy; Private In estigator_ could be found within. He grimaced; he’d have to rectify that before his mother’s next visit. She was desperate for him to move to more ‘reputable’ premises, even offering to buy him an entire apartment block of office space on one occasion – “to use as a headquarters,” as she put it. What in Salazar’s name a one-man firm like his would do with a headquarters he really didn’t know. Besides, he rather liked his poky little office, with its shabby plaid carpet and sloping ceiling, situated right at the corner of Diagon and Knockturn alley. He found it poetic that he should be holed up here, on the verge of such seediness, just like so many of his marks turned out to be.

Sinking back into the worn leather desk chair – the one that used to reside in his father’s study – he loosened his tie and opened the first few buttons on his white Oxford. He would try and treat this case as he would do any other, and that meant doing his homework like the good little Ravenclaw he’d always been.

**

It was the flickering of his brass desk lamp that finally drew Scorpius’ attention away from his work. Glancing over at the clock balanced precariously on the overpacked bookshelf, he discovered that he’d managed to work through almost the whole night. His stomach rumbled and his back ached awfully, but – he thought, as he looked across the pile of papers now littering his desk – he’d found out all he needed to know before going out into the field.

 _Hogwarts a History: Volume II_ had filled in any gaps in his knowledge of Lupin’s parents and their tragic deaths at the Battle of Hogwarts. Childhood summer holidays spent with the Weasley-Potter families were documented in surprising detail in a number of _Daily Prophet_ articles, as was his relationship with Victoire. From their teenage dates in Hogsmeade, to the double page spread in _Witch Weekly_ covering their engagement announcement, their romance was chronicled at almost every stage, and it certainly seemed a happy one for all intents and purposes. He found, from the annual Ministry census, that Teddy was listed as a Metamorphagus, and that his usual appearance consisted of turquoise hair and bright, golden eyes (which in turn led Scorpius to believe that he was a bit of a show off). A search of his school record placed him in Hufflepuff, with the accolade of Head Boy to boot. And, finally, a call to his contact at St Mungo’s hospital revealed that a patient under the name of Ted Lupin had been receiving monthly medical tests in a private Lycanthropy clinic since the age of sixteen which, so far, had shown no trace of his father’s affliction.

So, one thing at least was for certain: wherever Teddy Lupin may be and whatever he was doing, he wasn’t viciously slaughtering villagers beneath the light of a full moon.

By the time he’d showered and shaved in the tiny office bathroom and pulled on the spare clean shirt he kept folded in a desk drawer, Victoire’s owl containing a list of family members and their addresses had arrived and was tapping persistently against the dirty window.

He cast an eye down the neatly written scroll, marvelling – as he often had done during his school days – at just how many members of the Weasley-Potter clan there actually were. At Hogwarts it had sometimes felt as if there was one lurking around every corner. They had spanned all houses, all quidditch teams and all social spheres. As an only child, particularly one who liked to keep himself to himself, they had always been an alien entity; this large, loving brood who couldn’t help but attract attention to itself in all sorts of ways. They had something of a seductive quality about them, as Scorpius had eventually discovered in more ways than one.

He paused over one particular name, noting with surprise that she still lived at the same address as he remembered. She did love that flat, he supposed, even though the rent alone had cost her almost her entire month’s wages back when they had been –

Scorpius clenched his jaw and blinked away the rising memory. Best to start elsewhere, he concluded quickly. He glanced back at the list, mentally re-organising it in the order of those he was most likely to get talking, and quickly. Two names immediately jumped out at him, in almost perfect synchrony: Hugo and Fred Weasley. And he already knew exactly where he could find them.

**

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes hadn’t changed all that much over the years though it had grown considerably larger, buying up the premises of both next-door businesses and even expanding upwards, so that it was now one of the tallest buildings on Diagon Alley. Scorpius could see it from his office window if he craned his neck just so, although he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually stepped foot inside. 

The two youngest members of the Weasley family had taken over the reins of the business almost a year ago now. Scorpius had seen the front-page article in the _Prophet_ marking the occasion _,_ complete with colour photo of the two men and their respective fathers. And it certainly seemed like things were going well for the new management. That morning, the place was heaving with animated children and their families, whistles and bangs echoing from every corner, whilst various gadgets whizzed overhead before disappearing or transforming into something else entirely and taking off again.

Scorpius had been right in his estimation; when he finally found Hugo – who was busy demonstrating their newest product (a quill that seemed to exclusively write swear words) to a horde of mesmerised students – and explained why he was there, the two young entrepreneurs were more than happy to accompany him somewhere quieter to talk, leaving their empire in the capable hands of their numerous staff.

‘Somewhere quieter’ turned out to be the Leaky Cauldron, at Fred’s rather quick suggestion. Scorpius imagined this had more to do with the free round he was now carrying back over to their booth, than any sort of privacy the cramped little watering-hole provided. Unfortunately for him, their readiness to talk didn’t necessarily equate to them actually knowing anything worth talking about.

“Sorry, mate,” Hugo muttered, oblivious to the line of butterbeer foam now resting on his top lip, “but I don’t know how much help we can be. The last time we saw Teddy was at his and Vic’s ‘unofficial’ engagement party. And everything seemed fine. He was great, happy, y’know?”

Fred nodded his agreement, “Yeah, that was the night before he went missing. Nobody had a clue.”

Scorpius tapped his quill thoughtfully on his rather empty notebook. “Where exactly was this party?”

“At Rosie’s, she threw it for them as a surprise. It was just us lot, no parents allowed, that sort of thing. Chance to blow off a bit of steam,” Hugo grinned.

Scorpius nodded as if in understanding. In reality, he couldn’t remember the last time he blew off anything.

He glanced between the two men. If he didn’t know any better he’d have thought they were twins; the original Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes reincarnated. Fred’s hair was a shade darker, he supposed; Hugo’s nose a touch longer. Uncanny though, all the same. 

“And nothing out of the ordinary happened that evening?” Scorpius pressed. “Nothing even the slightest bit strange or different to usual?”

Hugo shrugged, apologetically.

Fred took a long swig of his pint. “Sorry, Malfoy. Except…” he paused, and scrunched up his nose in a way that Scorpius supposed indicated he was thinking, “There was a half hour, right before the end, no one could find Rose or Teddy anywhere. They even missed Molly’s first ever attempt at karaoke.”

“Which we’re all hoping will also be her last,” Hugo grimaced.

Scorpius frowned, quill poised. “Rose and Teddy disappeared together?”

“Oh, only for like twenty minutes or something and that isn’t unusual,” Hugo waved off his interest. “They’re always off doing stuff together; they’ve been really close these last couple of years. Probably just planning some last minute, goofy surprise for Vic.”

“And Victoire doesn’t mind that?”

“Nah, she loves surprises.”

Fred rolled his eyes. “He meant them hanging out, you twit. But no, she couldn’t care less. Honestly, Vic and Teddy are like soulmates or whatever rubbish Lily calls it. Never had eyes for anyone but each other. It’s enough to make you feel sick, sometimes.”

“So, there’s never been any suggestion that Rose and Teddy could be, er, anything more than just friends?” Scorpius found he couldn’t quite bring himself to write that down.

Fred and Hugo just stared at him. “Eurgh, Malfoy. Now you’re the one making us feel sick.”

**

He didn’t have far to go to find the next cousin. Just down the road at Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, Lily Potter was just stepping out on her lunch break as Scorpius approached her through the bustling shopping crowd. Just as happy to talk as Hugo and Fred, she eagerly linked her arm through his and pulled him along beside her as she made her way to one of the numerous little cafes down a quieter side street.

“I’m just working there for the summer,” she explained, animatedly, pouring them both a steaming cup of some flowery herbal tea that looked as if it had been brewed in a high school potions class. “I really wanted the internship with _Witch Weekly_ ’s fashion department but Mia Longbottom got that one. Still, it’s great experience, really hands on you know.”

Scorpius nodded and tried to remember when he’d actually asked. He took a swig of his tea: it tasted of aniseed and made his nose tickle unpleasantly. 

“I even made a set of bridal robes the other week. I was going to see if Victoire would let me help with hers but then given the circumstances, well, it didn’t seem the right time to ask,” she frowned at the inconvenience of it all.

Scorpius arched a slim eyebrow. “No, perhaps not. Now, Miss Potter -,”

“Lily,” she beamed at him.

He blinked. “Lily, right. Look, I know your father has his best employees out looking for Mr Lupin, and I’m sure he’s already spoken to you and your cousins, but in my experience, there’s usually a few things that people don’t particularly like to share with their parents. Is there anything, perhaps, that you might not have felt comfortable telling him, that might help me find out what’s happened to Mr Lupin?”

Lily didn’t miss a beat. “Well,” she lowered her voice, leaning over the table towards him conspiratorially. “I’d never say this to Dad, especially not if Uncle Ron was around, but if Rose doesn’t have something to do with Teddy going missing then I’m a roasted flobberworm!”

Scorpius frowned, slightly. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, they’re best friends, Teddy and Rose. Hasn’t anyone told you that already?”

“I’ve heard they’re close. How, er, how long have they been such good friends?” he affected a semi-plausible nonchalance. Luckily Lily didn’t have cause to notice.

“Probably the last two or three years. It was strange, really. They’d always got along, like we all did, but then Rosie went… well, a bit _weird_ all of a sudden. She stopped coming to family lunches and parties, that sort of thing. It was like she didn’t want to see any of us, Merlin knows why, and she was awfully miserable all the time, too. Anyway, it was Teddy of all people who finally brought her round and they’ve been thick as thieves ever since,” she waved her hands in a gesture of general bewilderment.

“Did you ever find out what had happened? Why Rose was like that?” his voice felt oddly thick in his throat. Judging by the timeline, he could certainly hazard a guess.

Lily shook her head, her brown eyes wide. “She never told anyone but Teddy. And no one else ever dared to ask. It’s like we all just pretended it never happened. Like I said: _weird_.”

**

That evening, Scorpius sat nursing a measure of Ogden’s over ice and thumbing through his scrawled notes from the day’s interviews. Lily had had plenty more to say over the rest of their lunch date, most of which he hadn’t even bothered to write down. One of her many theories involved Teddy joining an undercover Muggle intelligence operation for her Uncle Percy, another had him engaged in secret werewolf research somewhere in a Slovenian forest. The girl and her imagination were truly wasted in fashion, he thought, wryly. 

All in all, he hadn’t got very much from the three younger cousins but what he did have, he didn’t much like. It was becoming fairly obvious that he was going to have to speak to a certain other Weasley before too long – a prospect he had been hoping to avoid for a long as possible, if not entirely.

Scorpius wasn’t sure how she’d react to even seeing him again. He’d imagined that particular scenario a few hundred times over the previous years, never with a happy outcome. He’d wager he’d be lucky to make it out alive with all four limbs still attached.

Glancing at the clock, he drained the last of his drink and sent off a few more owls – one to a friend in the Ministry Transport office and one to Albus Potter’s secretary asking for an appointment – before calling it a night, bundling his jacket into a makeshift pillow and stretching his long legs out on the shabby office sofa.

**

Despite the dreary weather, Dominique Weasley had insisted in meeting outdoors in the Hogsmeade memorial gardens. Scorpius found her huddled beneath her black umbrella on a damp bench on the south west corner, already half way through a pack of Marlboro lights and gazing out over the muddy flowerbeds.

“Victoire’s a mess,” she muttered before he’d even had chance to take a seat. Dominique had never been one for small talk. “She isn’t eating, says it makes her feel sick. I’m sure it’s the stress of all this.”

Scorpius pulled his jacket collar a little higher around his neck but didn’t say anything.

She sighed and tucked a length of poker straight blonde hair behind one ear. “All she does is sleep all the time. I suppose I would too if my fiancé ran away.”

Scorpius quirked an eyebrow. “You think Lupin ran away?”

She gave a funny little snort which seemed uncharacteristically inelegant of her. “Don’t you?”

“I’m more interested in what you think,” he watched her carefully as she stubbed out her cigarette beneath a well-heeled shoe.

“Look, I love Teddy,” she muttered, fumbling in her purse for mints. “I’ve known him for as long as I can remember, but it’s the oldest story in the book. Boy proposes to girl. Boy realises the gravity of the situation and does a runner. It doesn’t take a private investigator to work this mystery out.”

Scorpius couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Guess I’ll have to give your sister that advance fee back, then. Bollocks.”

“Don’t be a smart arse, Malfoy,” Dominique glared at him, though her lips twitched around the edges. “Remind me again who it was that helped you solve that riddle after you’d been locked out of the common room for the best part of a week?”

He rolled his eyes. “I still think a question on the metaphysics of transfiguration was asking a bit much of a first year, especially on only his second day of school. But, yes, you have my undying gratitude and always will.”

They shared a nostalgic smirk. Dominique had been a few years ahead of him at Hogwarts, but had kept something of a guardian eye over Scorpius as they both navigated life in the Ravenclaw Tower. She always told him it was because he reminded her of her younger brother. Scorpius had figured she meant the hair.

“Let’s say you’re right and Lupin has just run away, where do you think he would go?”

Dominique pursed her lips. “Ordinarily I’d say he’d be hiding out at Rose’s, but she claims she hasn’t seen or heard from him either.”

Scorpius glanced at her shrewdly, “But you don’t believe her.”

She appeared to think for a moment, before giving an almost imperceptible shrug. “I’m not sure. Which is a rarity for me, as you know. I just don’t see why she would lie; she can see how upset this is making Victoire. She’d have to have a bloody good reason to keep putting her through all this if she knew where Teddy was all along. Have you spoken to her yet?”

“I’ll get to Rose, eventually,” he frowned, automatically defensive. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there’s actually quite a lot of you to track down.”

Dominique merely rolled her eyes.

“So, there’s no animosity between Rose and Victoire?” he quickly changed the subject. “Only I can imagine it could be difficult: your younger, female cousin being so close with your fiancé?”

“Oh, come on, Malfoy,” Dominique threw him a disparaging look, lighting up another cigarette. “I know what you’re implying and you’re smarter than that. I think Vic could see that Rose had needed someone – someone from outside the family – when she’d had her... _episode_.”

Scorpius shifted, uncomfortably. “Lily mentioned that, actually. ‘Said she went a bit ‘weird’ a few years ago.”

Dominique chuckled, dryly. “Lily’s just as insightful as always, I see. Rosie wasn’t just weird, she was changed somehow. She lost her spark, lost all that life in her. I could tell what it was the minute I saw her, not that she’d ever speak to anyone about it. No one except Teddy, I mean.”

“And, er, what was it, do you think, that changed her?” Scorpius had a fair idea he already knew what her answer would be.

She let out a long sigh, the wisps of cigarette smoke swirling up into the overcast sky as she exhaled, before turning to look him straight in the eye with a sad sort of smile. “Heartbreak,” she said.

**

“Scorpius! Good to see you.”

It took Scorpius a few seconds to recognise the man striding purposefully towards him, with his warm, open grin and outstretched hand.

“Albus,” Scorpius smiled in amusement and took the proffered handshake, slightly taken aback by the strength of its owner’s grip.

It was as if someone had taken the Albus Potter that Scorpius remembered from school days and reassembled him into a fully-fledged adult. This was not the boy who lazed at the back of classrooms and out on the sunny castle lawns, hair perpetually uncombed and shirt untucked, charming the girls and horsing about with his classmates. This was Albus Potter: Senior Undersecretary to Minister Granger, Head of International Wizarding Relations and a surprising member of the men’s loafers fan club. _Merlin_ , the man was even wearing a tie of his own volition – and not one wrapped around his forehead.

“My office is just along here, shall we?”

Scorpius followed him down a long, marble-floored corridor, passing by a rather heavily made-up, middle-aged witch – whom Albus called Romilda and instructed to bring them some coffee – and inside to one of the roomiest office spaces that Scorpius had ever seen. He thought of his own little room perched above the busy cauldron shop and wondered, not for the first time, why he didn’t take his father’s advice and go after a desk job at the Ministry. It was clearly paying dividends for one Mr Potter.

Scorpius took a seat and surveyed the other man’s desk space. Even that was bigger, and more organised, than his own. A shiny, golden name plate sat beside a collection of photos. Teddy Lupin appeared in quite a few, the flare of turquoise hair giving him away each time. Scorpius’ eyes came to rest on one in particular, however: a group shot of everyone at some kind of occasion. There was Albus and his siblings, along with Rose and Hugo. Rose and Lily wore matching blue dresses. The colour made Rose’s eyes shine beneath her auburn fringe.

Scorpius glanced away quickly, but not before Albus noticed his interest.

“That was at my folks’ anniversary party. They renewed their vows after thirty years of marriage, the daft sops,” he grinned that easy grin of his and leant back in his chair. “Anyway, how can I help? Vic said you’re looking into Teddy’s disappearance for her, any leads so far?”

“I’ve got a few different lines of enquiry at the moment, nothing concrete,” Scorpius admitted. “I’m sorry to bother you at work, I’ve been trying to canvass as many of your cousins as possible. I find that when someone goes missing, those closest to them often know more than they might realise. Something they think of as insignificant can turn out to be the key to solving the whole case.”

Albus nodded. “Gotcha, gotcha. Although, I’m afraid I’m about as useful as a deflated Quaffle on this one. I’m as baffled as anyone.”

Scorpius pulled his notebook from his jacket pocket. “Did Teddy have any enemies that you know of? Anyone who might’ve had cause to do him harm?”

“Blimey,” Albus eyes widened. “Not at all. Teddy was... well, Teddy! Everybody loved him. The man’s got more friends than I’ve had hot meals. And he was doing great at work, won some kind of award thing last month, even: Healer of the Year or something like that. There was a whole drinks reception and everything.”

Scorpius nodded. “You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself, as well. If you don’t mind me saying?”

Albus just laughed, but Scorpius detected the faintest hint of colour in his cheeks. “Yeah, well, turns out I actually quite like being a pencil-pusher. Plus, it doesn’t exactly hurt when your aunt’s the boss, y’know?”

Albus grinned cheerfully and Scorpius was again reminded of that easy teenage charm he had once – and apparently _still_ – had. More well-known and more popular than almost every other boy at that school, but humble enough to be friendly to all – even the quiet Ravenclaw he’d been paired with in Charms. He had a knack for making people feel at ease. He could make you feel as if you’d been best friends for years within five minutes of meeting. Scorpius had envied him awfully for it.

“If Teddy had left of his own volition, any ideas where he might go?”

Albus sighed and leant back in his chair again, “Well, Teddy’s favourite places are Shell Cottage and The Burrow. And I reckon someone might have noticed if he was hiding out there. Sorry, Scorpius, told you I’d be useless.”

Scorpius looked back at the family photo. “Your brother, James, I’ve been trying to get hold of him, too -,”

“Ah, sorry. You’ll be out of luck there as well, I’m afraid: pre-season training with the Falcons. Though you wouldn’t think they did a day of training in their lives, if last season’s league performance was anything to go by. Don’t tell him I said that, mind you.”

“Any chance Teddy could have gone to stay with him?”

Albus scratched his chin, thoughtfully. “I doubt it. Their summer training venue is always a pretty closely guarded secret. James says their coach is a paranoid nutter, always scared some other team is going to get wind of their new tactics. Even James doesn’t know where he’s going until the portkey arrives.”

Scorpius left Albus in his office, just as Romilda returned with a tray of coffee, cream and sugar. He could’ve sworn she gave him a predatory once over from behind her bejewelled spectacles as he headed back down the corridor.

Stepping through the gilded elevator doors, he selected his floor and waited as the fluttering paper memos zoomed in and out overhead, till he reached Level 6 – Department of Magical Transport. He found Adrian Creevey sitting gloomily behind a stack of apparition license applications in a poorly lit corner of the busy bull-pen; a stark contrast from Albus’ airy, private office. Adrian, who he had owled earlier that week, slipped an envelope from under the stack of files, passing it discreetly to Scorpius who fished the man’s payment – a pair of tickets – from his coat pocket.

Why anyone in their right mind would want to attend the National Gobstone Championships was a mystery that Scorpius would never solve. But he was more than happy to procure the two all-access passes if it got him the information he needed in return.

He waited till he made it back to his office to open the envelope that Adrian had procured for him. Inside was the information he had requested: on the night of his disappearance, no portkeys had been booked under the name of Teddy Lupin.

There was one, however, booked under the name of a Miss Rose Weasley.

Scorpius grimaced, instinctively reaching for his bottle of Ogden’s Finest. He could avoid it no longer, it seemed. It was time to pay a visit to his ex-girlfriend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who read, left kudos and commented on chapter 1. As I said, this is something a little different for me, so it's great to have feedback and hear your thoughts. That being said: welcome to chapter 2!

Diagon Alley was busy again on Thursday morning. Scorpius watched the crowds bustling across the cobbled streets from behind his copy of the _Daily Prophet._ Page ten offered an interesting article detailing a new cure for resistant Spattergroit cases, but Scorpius’ attention was elsewhere. He watched the students, excited for the upcoming term, darting in and out of shops and waving their book lists overhead. He saw their parents, struggling under the weight of a new cauldron and scales set, and trying and failing to shepherd them away from the allure of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

And he saw Rose Weasley on her way to work, satchel swinging from one shoulder as she hurried up the stairs and disappeared inside Gringotts Bank.

Scorpius glanced at his watch. Ten past nine. Rose had always struggled with time keeping and it seemed that old habits died hard. That was useful for him, he thought, as he happened to know a lot of her old habits quite intimately.

He didn’t move for the next eight hours. Sat dutifully on the bench outside the imposing building, he watched the crowds and waited for Rose to reappear. He couldn’t be sure how long she’d remain inside – Rose’s work as a Treasure Restorer was unpredictable. If one of the Curse Breakers brought in a new find she could be holed up in her workroom for hours. But today, it seemed, was a good day for Scorpius and a bad day for the Curse Breakers as Rose reappeared at the end of her usual shift. Scorpius swiftly folded the newspaper beneath his arm and followed the familiar auburn hair through the crowds, careful to keep his distance.

He’d decided to try and tail Rose first. Not just because he was afraid to actually have to talk to her – or so he kept telling himself – but in the vague hope that she might lead him to some useful clue or, better yet, Lupin himself. Unfortunately, it seemed Rose’s plans that evening consisted mainly of her regular errands and less of suspicious activities involving vanishing men.

Her first stop was at Flourish & Blotts and Scorpius cursed his miserable luck as she darted left into the shop. He’d lost count of the hours wasted between those aisles in the days he might have accompanied her on such a trip. Quickly crossing the road, he peered through the shop window, relieved to see her already at the till with just a new paintbrush set in hand. Just as she was about to leave, however, she doubled back towards the Non-Fiction bookshelves and Scorpius watched with a swooping sense of nostalgia as she reached up on her tiptoes for _‘Gadding with Ghouls, by Gilderoy Lockhart’_ , jamming it between tomes on the Fiction shelf on her way back to the door. 

Scorpius stared dazedly, lost in a potent memory as she stepped out of the bookshop, bell tinkling overhead. Every time they’d found themselves in a bookstore or library (which had been often, considering he was nothing if not a model Ravenclaw and she, her mother’s daughter) Rose would pick out one of the many Lockhart titles and move it into the fiction section with an air of indignation, as if righting some great literary wrongdoing. And, every time, Scorpius would ask her what in Merlin’s name she was doing. The only answer he ever received was that it was some Weasley family in-joke that he simply wouldn’t understand. Just another little secret that she would never let him in on.

Scowling, Scorpius picked up his pace as his mark disappeared around a corner. He tracked Rose all the way back to her flat, immersing himself into the passing crowd each time she would head into a shop – once for groceries and once for a bulky parcel wrapped with string and brown paper – until he found himself stood outside the unassuming maisonette. She lived two streets down from the Leaky Cauldron on the muggle side, above a poky antiques shop, and once upon a time he could have walked here with his eyes closed.

He watched her disappear inside and stared up at the building for a moment. He had that unsettling sense of nostalgia again, that feeling of seeing a place so unchanged when so much else has changed around it. There had been a time, not so terribly long ago, when Scorpius had spent most of his nights within those walls. He knew the colour of her bedroom curtains, which photos were on the shelves. He’d had breakfast at the little worktop counter, done crosswords beneath a blanket on the sofa, and fucked her in every room bar one.

Rose had a thing about sex in kitchens, said it felt unsanitary.

He swallowed thickly and pulled his collar up around his jaw. It was starting to rain and he was stalling, he knew it. Trailing her was one thing, coming face to face with the woman he’d once loved was entirely another.

**

The brass knocker was slippery with rain water by the time he’d dragged himself across the road and up the narrow steps to her front door. He could see the cracks in the woodwork of the doorframe that he’d meant to fix before… everything. They were deeper now, probably unsalvageable. He knocked again, more firmly.

The rain had begun to pelt in earnest, trickling from the hair at the nape of his neck and under his collar. Scorpius frowned and stared at the immovable door. He knew for a fact there were no other means of entry or exit to the flat and there was no spy-hole, so she hadn’t simply seen it was him and chosen not to answer. Giving the handle an experimental turn, the door opened easily, just a crack. He grimaced in familiar irritation; he’d told her a million times to lock the bloody door when she was at home alone. The woman treated personal security as if it were something others had created just to inconvenience her.

Hearing nothing from inside, he pushed open the door a further few inches and peered into the dark and empty hallway. A sudden sense of foreboding washed over him and he pulled out his wand, edging inside.

“Rose?” he whispered a quick _Lumos_ as he turned the corner, finding the living room equally empty. With a frown, he looked back down the darkened hallway, seeing a strip of light glowing from under a door. He made to head towards it, until he became aware of the faint hiss of running water.

 _Fuck_. He froze where he stood. She was in the shower.

Rose was in the shower – naked, he assumed, as most people generally are in such circumstances – and he had broken into her flat. _Fuck._

He turned quickly, aiming to get out and as far away as humanly possible before she was any the wiser, only stalling when he spotted the parcel she’d just collected propped against the wall in the hallway.

A thought occurred to him, even through his panic: it was odd, wasn’t it, for someone to collect a package in person these days? Owls could deliver almost anything and, certainly, a parcel of that size should be no problem even for a regular postal owl. So, why not have whatever it was delivered straight to her home?

Because owls could easily be traced back to the sender, he thought grimly. And the sender of that particular parcel may not have wanted to be traced.

He crouched in front of it, raising his still-lit wand so he could assess for any sign of origin or a return address. There was nothing written on the plain brown parcel paper at all, which in itself seemed strange. The dimensions of it seemed off, as well – it was bulky and large, yet he’d watched Rose carry it home without a struggle. Perhaps a weight-concealing charm of some sort?

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. It would be simple enough to open the wrappings, get a good look at what was inside and _Reparo_ it all back together before Rose had chance to notice. With a quick twist of his wand, he watched the string neatly untie itself, the parcel paper curling back at the edges to reveal… a folded easel and set of two crisp, blank canvasses. He bit back a curse. Stupid, _stupid._ How many times had he watched her receiving an identical parcel back in the days when he wouldn’t have been considered an intruder in her home? Painting wasn’t just a hobby or part of her job description; it was practically an obsession with Rose.

He should have remembered that. He should have known. Being here, back in this flat, he was already losing his focus. He needed to get out of here, _now._

Unfortunately, that was when he felt the tip of a wand pressed firmly between his shoulder blades.

**

The last time he had seen Rose Weasley, Scorpius had been unspeakably angry.

He’d said things he regretted, she’d said things she didn’t mean, and the inevitable outcome was that they hadn’t spoken again for almost three years.

It appeared that was all about to change.

“Funny,” Rose muttered, darkly. “I’d never considered creating myself a Horcrux, but I think I may be about to.” She jabbed the tip of her wand sharply into his back, making him flinch. “Get up – _slowly_ – and drop your wand. Any sudden movements and I swear to Rowena, there’ll be nothing left for your mother to mourn, Malfoy.”

Pulse pounding in his ears, back muscles taut with tension, Scorpius’ rose cautiously to his feet with his hands held aloft in surrender, wincing as his wand clattered to the floor. Rose kicked it away, out of reach, with the practiced ease of a girl who’d grown up with several male cousins.

“Turn around.”

He did as instructed, the point of her wand now levelled straight at his sternum, and his stare locked with hers. She was clad only in a towel which she clutched to herself in one fist, her hair was wet and clinging to her neck in dark tendrils, and a small puddle was already beginning to collect at her feet. Scorpius noted idly that he could still hear the shower running. _Gods_ , how was it possible that he’d forgotten just how devastatingly beautiful she was?

“Taken to breaking and entering, have we? Or is it just Victoire that warrants such dedication to your work?”

“I knocked.”

“Not loudly enough, evidently,” she snarled. “Besides, the last time I checked, knocking was not simply a prelude to letting yourself in, uninvited.”

Scorpius had nothing to counter with – she was entirely right, of course.

“I take it it’s true then, she hired you for this?” she didn’t wait for him to answer. “Can’t say I’m surprised that you’re still rolling around in other people’s dirt for a living.”

“Seems preferable to rolling around in my own,” he glanced down at the wand tip, still pointed unwaveringly at his chest. “Do you mind? Only, I find it somewhat difficult to keep up conversation whilst being held at wand-point.”

Rose’s lip curled, but she begrudgingly lowered her wand. She kept a firm grasp on it, just by her side, Scorpius noticed. He could hardly blame her. He ached to reach out and touch her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, carefully. “When you didn’t answer, I thought you might be…” _In danger_ , he didn’t bother to finish. It seemed stupid in retrospect and she’d never believe him anyway. 

Rose merely sniffed in disdain. In the pale light of his wand, lying on the floor further down the hallway, Scorpius could hardly tell the colour of her eyes. He knew they were blue, of course – a bright, shining azure blue that had proved particularly difficult to forget, especially when he lay awake at night on his blasted office sofa – but he also knew that, right now, they were radiating a fury that would probably have sent Voldemort running for the hills.

“Well, that is a surprise,” she snapped, mercifully pulling his focus back to the present. “I wasn’t aware you actually knew how to apologise.”

It was his turn to scoff. “I generally reserve it for when I’ve got something to apologise for. It’s been notably lacking from _your_ vocabulary for a while though, as we both know.”

“I’ve learnt not to waste sentiments on people who spread theirs too thinly,” she offered him a grim smile. “Speaking of which, how is dear Bianca Nott these days?”

Scorpius arched an apathetic eyebrow. “I wouldn’t know. You’d have to ask my mother. Any particular reason why you’re enquiring about our old classmate?”

Rose emitted a sound akin to a low growl and glanced away to glare at the wall. “’Salazar’s sake, I told Vic this was a bad idea, but she wouldn’t listen to me,” she shook her head, seemingly talking to herself. He assumed that ‘this’ referred to hiring him, specifically.

He found his own anger prickling. “Well, I doubt you explained why you were so against me. Or perhaps you’ve come clean, started sharing your dirty secret after all? Certainly sounds like you were more than happy to open up to Lupin, in the end,” he let the unsavoury suggestion hang in the air between them.

Her wand-point was immediately trained back on his heart. Even in the dim light he could see the angry flush of her skin. It made his stomach clench with an unhealthy wave of desire.

“In case it wasn’t abundantly clear, I have less than zero interest in speaking to or helping you in any way, Malfoy. Now, get the fuck out of my flat, and do me a favour and jump in front of the Knight Bus on your way home.”

She jerked her head towards the front door and Scorpius could do nothing but grimace and clench his jaw in frustration. “ _Accio_ wand,” he muttered, slipping it into his coat pocket under her watchful stare, moving slowly back along the hall. He paused in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder, “You booked a Portkey on the night of Lupin’s disappearance. Care to tell me where you were going?”

“I’m quite sure that’s none of your business, Malfoy.”

He offered her a piercing stare. “Rose, you and I both know that I’m going to find out what’s happened to Lupin, sooner or later. I’d strongly advise you don’t attempt to stand in my way.”

As a means of response, Scorpius supposed that having the wind knocked out of him and the door slammed in his face sent a rather clear message. 

**

It took him twenty minutes to walk back to his office. He could have apparated but didn’t feel he could trust himself, given that his heart rate was still faster than was strictly healthy and his vision swimming with images of a practically naked Rose.

That hadn’t exactly gone as planned. Although, in fairness, it wasn’t far off how he’d imagined their first meeting might go. He’d actually come away with far fewer physical injuries – even if his pride was a little bruised by being so summarily disarmed – than he’d expected. Credit where credit was due, he thought, she’d probably exercised an overwhelming level of restraint by not simply cursing him on sight.

The mention of Bianca Nott was interesting. He’d always wondered if she’d seen those photos of the two of them, and now he knew. He could hardly claim a victory there, however. He’d kept his ear to the ground and eyes on the gossip columns in the months following their break-up, looking for any suggestion that she might be moving on, might be doing something with her life other than festering with hurt, like he was.

It took him another half hour to make himself presentable enough to Floo over to the Manor. He found his mother in the sitting room, thankfully alone and with a Gillywater in hand. She was delighted to see him, as always, and he sat with her a while, listening to the latest gossip from her society luncheons and answering the usual questions – Yes, he was working on a new case. Yes, he was eating regularly. No, he didn’t want setting up with the daughter of her newest acquaintance, but thanks all the same – then he swiftly excused himself to visit the library.

It had always been one of his favourite rooms in the house. Overstuffed armchairs in front of overstuffed shelves, with just the right amount of dust and warm light to set the atmosphere. The Hogwarts library might have been bigger, but it had nothing on the variety and quality of books that he’d found hiding in here, over the years. It had been a favourite of his father’s too; they’d often spent hours here in companiable silence, each lost in whatever text they’d stumbled upon.

Pausing at the threshold, he let the familiar feeling of loss wash over him for a moment, before heading to the far shelves. This wasn’t a section he frequented often but tonight he had a specific research goal in mind and he set to work quickly, collecting the various world atlases he could find and stacking them on a nearby reading table. Although seeing Rose had been something akin to taking several bludgers to the head, it hadn’t dulled his powers of observation to the point that he’d failed to spot the collection of papers lying on her coffee table, when he’d quickly surveyed the living room. An open map had been directly on top of the pile, and he could hardly have missed the large red circle scrawled around what appeared to be a densely forested area. The topography of the area – or what he’d glimpsed of it – looked oddly distinctive and he was sure, if he could find it in one of these atlases, he’d be able to recognise it again.

Admittedly, it was something of a hex in the dark. It was highly possible that whatever he had seen had been something work related – the site of a current Gringott’s Curse Breaking expedition, for example. But Rose’s interest had always been the treasures themselves, returning them to their former glory and restoring the beauty as she put it, and not in the reckless salvage missions it took to acquire them. Leave the curse breaking to the Curse Breakers, as it were.

Scorpius felt far more confident that the map, and the location clearly marked on it, had to do with the whereabouts of Teddy Lupin.

**

Almost three hours later, he stared down in triumph at the open copy of the fifty-ninth edition of _The Atlas of Wizarding Europe_. At some point, his mother had sent a house-elf with a plate of sandwiches which he had yet to touch, and that same house-elf must have lit the various candles around the room as he had yet to be plunged into darkness despite the lateness of the hour. 

He stared down at the cartographic image in front of him. It was unmistakable: the densely packed forested area in the middle of an almost perfect, expansive circle of blue – a large lake, evidently. It was an area just on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees. The mountain range was directly to the North West, as if shielding the lake and its leafy island from view. The topography was unique and unusual, and he was sure this was the same location as depicted on the map in Rose’s flat. He glanced at the surrounding annotations – there didn’t appear to be any nearby wizarding villages or towns, just a historical site on the shores of the lake where the witches and wizards of old would have honoured the likes of grindylows and merpeople, believing them to be powerful water spirits or river gods.

Scorpius found he was hard pressed to come up with a reason that someone like Teddy Lupin would be hiding out somewhere like that. Remote? Yes. Inhabitable? Possibly, if you had the necessary skills to survive in near-wild conditions. Logical? Absolutely not.

He sank into one of the dense armchairs with a sigh and rubbed his straining eyes. He ought to have owled an update on the case to his client by now but, for some reason, he felt reluctant to inform Victoire that he’d marked out her cousin as Undesirable Number One. He felt certain that Rose was involved but to what extent, he wasn’t sure. For someone who was supposedly so close to Lupin, he would’ve expected her to seem more upset, more concerned about his apparent disappearance. Instead she’d been dismissive, defensive and uncooperative. And whilst that could have had something to do with his unexpected presence within her flat, he didn’t flatter himself enough to assume he was the only one occupying her thoughts.

Oh, Rose Weasley most definitely knew something, at the very least. At worst, she’d orchestrated the whole bloody thing. He just had to find out what.

**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there I was hoping to churn out a chapter once a fortnight or so... What I hadn't counted on was the sheer levels of utter boredom I would endure during isolation. Luckily, ScoRose are here to occupy my tiny mind.
> 
> Thanks again to those who read and reviewed. I'm really enjoying hearing your theories on whats to come and where this is all headed!

Scorpius spent the night at the Manor. It was well past midnight by the time he’d finished researching the area he’d identified from the map in Rose’s flat, and he was more than happy to spend the night on a proper mattress rather than his uncomfortable office sofa for a change.

His mother fussed over him relentlessly at breakfast. Apparently, he looked too thin, too pale – when was the last time he’d had a haircut? – and so he made quick work of his eggs benedict before heading back to the office. Sometimes, Scorpius found it difficult to endure being the sole recipient of her affection. His father had always let her make a fuss without complaint. Ever the dutiful husband, he would sit and nod with a ‘yes, dear’ or ‘of course, dear’, and bear it all with grace because he loved her so much.

Scorpius loved her too, of course, but he didn’t have the same patience for it.

He felt himself relax as he stepped out of the Floo and into his own environment. The threadbare plaid carpet felt comforting underfoot. There was an owl already waiting for him from Victoire, asking if he’d made any progress on the case and he grimaced. How does one politely express that they suspect a person’s fiancé and cousin of being up to something sinister, and that he wasn’t entirely convinced they hadn’t also been fucking each other on the sly for the last two years?

In truth, Scorpius didn’t know what to think on that point. His instincts told him that they hadn’t been… _physical_ ; that Rose and Teddy’s friendship had been platonic, if intimate on an emotional level. Or perhaps he was confusing his usually reliable ‘gut feeling’ with what he simply wanted to believe. He truly wanted to believe there was nothing more between them, just like he wanted to believe that Rose had been living a life of misery and celibacy without him.

Unfortunately, just because he wanted it to be true, didn’t make it so.

With a scowl, Scorpius penned a quick reply to Victoire. He kept Rose’s name out of it, but mentioned he’d discovered a location of interest and that he would write with more news when he had it. He then sent off a further two owls – one to Adrian Creevey again, asking for more information on Rose’s Portkey booking (specifically if she’d been travelling to a particular region in Spain), and one to an old friend of his father’s. 

The owl returned with Mr Zabini’s response before he’d even finished making himself a second cup of coffee: it seemed that there were no Curse Breaking expeditions to that particular part of Europe currently ongoing, but he’d be curious to know the root of Scorpius’ interest.

Scorpius allowed himself a wry smirk. He was sure Mr Zabini _would_ be curious as to his interest, as Mr Zabini was always curious about everything. Then again, he doubted the man had managed to become the Governor of the Bank of Wizarding Britain without ensuring he was always incredibly well informed about any risks or threats to his financial empire.

Scorpius wasn’t at liberty to reply, of course – client confidentiality and all that – but it was useful to know that he’d been right in at least one estimation so far: that map, and the arboreal island in the middle of the circular lake, had absolutely nothing to do with Rose’s work at Gringotts.

This was something _extra-curricular_.

**

Scorpius had considered picking up where he’d left off and canvassing the remaining Weasley cousins, but eventually decided not to bother. He hadn’t gleaned much from Albus and the others, and he was now surer than ever that his answers lay with the one particular Weasley that he’d practically made a career out of avoiding the last few years. All that was rather shot to Hell now, of course, as he found himself once again stationed outside of the maisonette flat above the antiques shop.

The early September air was unseasonably humid, and he’d foregone his usual dark wool jacket in favour of a light trench coat. He wouldn’t be attempting any more tête-à-têtes today; his sharp self-preservation instincts told him that wouldn’t be wise. Instead, he’d revert to surveillance. 

As he’d hoped, Rose had the Friday off as she sometimes did if work was slow, and when she emerged in a semi-sheer white blouse and flowery skirt beneath a raincoat of her own, Scorpius almost forgot to press himself into the shadows, distracted as he was by the very sight of her. He followed, at a discreet distance, as she headed over the threshold of two worlds and into muggle London, and almost immediately lost her on the Central Line – packed with tourists and commuters alike – before she popped out at Bethnal Green station and started making her way towards the Columbia Road flower market.

Another of her favourite haunts. Scorpius felt the twist of familiarity and loss as it took hold of his innards.

He watched her weave between the stalls, occasionally chatting with the vendors or stopping to breathe in the scents of potted hyacinths or a bucket of trimmed freesias. He noticed that her hair was twisted into a delicate chignon that seemingly defied the laws of physics for how much hair it was managing to contain. It suited her. 

She seemed smaller than he remembered; her clothes and skin wrapped around a thin frame. Same freckled nose though, same bright blue stare. Same easy smile that could make his heart beat erratically beneath his sternum. She shared that with her cousin, Albus – that wide, delighted grin. But whilst Albus had made him feel at ease with his charismatic grace, Rose had terrified the very life out of him at school.

He could still remember every stumbled word, every embarrassing blush of the evening she’d appeared in front of him at his desk in the library, declared there was nowhere else to sit and promptly set her books down across from him. He’d subsequently managed to do very little work and almost landed his first ever detention in seven years, having no Potions assignment to turn in the following day.

Scorpius blinked away the unsettling headrush of memory, hanging back as she turned to exit the market, a bouquet of hydrangeas and jasmine in hand, and headed West towards Hoxton where she visited a pop-up art gallery. He followed, an attentive shadow, as she then retraced her steps to the Underground station, travelling almost the width of the city to have lunch at a canal side café in Maida Vale. Her route made little sense to Scorpius, and gave him the distinct impression that she was making it up on the spot, heading where the wind took her, being _spontaneous_. He grimaced; that had always been something he’d loved and loathed about her in equal measure.

Her afternoon continued in a similar bemusing manner. She walked to Primrose Hill and sat sketching on a bench for well over an hour, whilst Scorpius got a cramp completing laps of the park at an inconspicuous distance. And a final trip on the Circle line took them window shopping along King’s Road – Scorpius finding his frustration mounting as she strolled between shop-fronts, walking so slowly he was surprised she wasn’t going backwards.

He was on the brink of abandoning this apparent fool’s errand. His feet hurt, his stomach grumbled in fond memory of his breakfast, and he was pissed off. He felt like he’d wasted a day staring at the back of his ex-girlfriend’s head and had nothing to show for it – other than the knowledge that she still ordered turkey club sandwiches and had a fidgeting problem, routinely pulling the same gold galleon from her pocket and twisting it between her fingers as she walked.

Not exactly the sort of discovery that was about to crack the case wide open.

As Scorpius watched her disappear inside a wine bar on Beaufort Street, he scowled churlishly from the opposite side of the road and weighed up returning to his office to sulk. But then, he considered, it was possible she might be meeting someone here and he suddenly found he didn’t want to leave her _… unsupervised_ , as it were.

Swiftly crossing the road, he waited until she was seated and distracted by the wine list before he slipped inside and into a booth in the opposite corner, seating himself at an angle that allowed him to keep an eye on her without being noticed himself. Almost half an hour passed, and Scorpius had the maliciously pleasing idea that she might have been stood up, when a waiter appeared at his table and blocked her from view.

“A message for you, sir,” he slipped a folded napkin onto the table. Scorpius didn’t fail to note the way he rolled his tongue over the word ‘sir’, as if there was very little to be considered gentlemanly about this particular customer, at all. Scorpius rather had to agree.

He flicked open the napkin and scowled at the words that appeared to have been etched in lipstick:

_If you insist on stalking me, the least you can do is pay for my drinks._

His stomach dropped and the cold flush of embarrassment prickled at his skin. He glanced up to find Rose staring at him from across the room. She raised her glass in salute, a self-satisfied smirk toying at the corner of her mouth.

Fuck.

**

Scorpius slid silently onto the empty barstool beside her. He wasn’t quite ready to meet her eye, aware of the triumphant glint he would find there. He’d been caught out. Again. Twice in as many days. His pride was wounded and his temper short.

“You really ought to work on your disillusionment charms,” she smirked over the rim of her wine glass and waved a hand in the general direction of his blindingly blond hair, “ _This_ is rather noticeable, even in a crowd.”

“When did you know?” he muttered, gruffly.

He caught her airy shrug from the corner of his eye. “Somewhere between the hydrangeas and the tulips.”

 _Sweet Circe_ – his eyebrows shot up and he looked at her in surprise – she’d known he’d been following her all bloody day. Why hadn’t she said something? Why hadn’t she turned around and physically assaulted him in public? That wild goose chase across London was starting to make sense.

She read the unspoken question in his frown, “I suppose I just wanted to see how long you’d keep it up. So, was it useful? Did I give anything away?” she laughed at him, cruelly. “You really must be struggling if your master plan was to follow me around like a lost sheep.”

The waiter hovered nearby as Rose drained the rest of her glass. “Well?” she muttered, curtly, glancing at the graffitied napkin he still clenched in his fist. Scorpius’ lip curled but he acquiesced, gesturing for the waiter to bring them each a refill. She didn’t bother to thank him.

They sat in silence for a moment. Rose fiddled with the stem of her glass; Scorpius drummed his fingers along the bar in an uncoordinated rhythm.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said, at last. “I shouldn’t have-,”

“No. You shouldn’t have.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight -,”

“ _Clearly._ ”

Scorpius grit his teeth together in frustration. “You realise I’m attempting to be civil, yes?”

Her eyes narrowed but she stalled herself, folding her arms sullenly and letting a huff of air leave her small frame in resignation. Another blanket of silence lay over them, still uncomfortable but a little less fraught. It seemed her irrepressible rage from the previous night had at least partially abated.

Rose took a minute sip of her wine. Scorpius stared at his hands.

“It’s funny,” she muttered at last, “but you look exactly the same. I know it’s not _that_ long ago but I expected you to be different, somehow, if I ever saw you again. You were even wearing the same coat…” she trailed off, clearly uncertain of herself. Something of a rarity, Scorpius’ inner voice remarked snidely.

“You’re different,” he offered in response. She arched an eyebrow at him questioningly. “Quicker reflexes, for one thing. It’s not often I’m taken by surprise.” He watched her lips quirk in suppressed amusement. “But you do seem… changed.”

He shrugged and didn’t volunteer anything further. Rose frowned and he smirked inwardly, knowing she would fret over that comment in days to come. 

She cleared her throat, “I don’t suppose there’s any point in me asking you to stop looking into this, is there?”

Scorpius’ head snapped up and he eyed her curiously. “Is that an admission of your involvement?”

She merely rolled her eyes. “You know I’m involved or else you wouldn’t be stalking me. For all your faults, Malfoy, you were never stupid.”

“Are you sleeping with him? Lupin?” The question spilled forth before he’d had chance to consider it.

Rose sighed, as if in disappointment, “Do you honestly think so little of me -,” she bit the tip of her tongue between her teeth. “Never mind. Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.”

Scorpius let the possibility of what that might mean tug on his ribs like an undertow. He chose his next words carefully: “I don’t think little of you. I don’t even really know you anymore.”

She let out another little huff of air, “Well, whose fault is that?”

“You’re joking…?” he stared at her, brow furrowed incredulously. “If you’re implying -,”

“I’m not implying anything. You’re the one who left -,”

“You hardly gave me a choice -,”

“– waited till I was asleep, like some cowardly -,”

“And if I’d stayed?” Scorpius raised his voice enough to drown out her retorts. She pressed her lips together and stared up at him with clouded eyes. “Would anything have been different? Would you have told anyone about us?”

He watched her glance nervously around the room, even now checking to see they weren’t being overheard, weren’t about to be spotted by someone she knew, anyone who might recognise them. Even here, in the back arse of muggle London. The habitual behaviour had repeatedly driven an ice shard into his once emphatic feelings for her.

“Fucks sake, Weasley,” he hissed, angrily, turning away to scowl at the bar. “And you have the audacity to act aggrieved that I left!”

“I know why you left,” she muttered quietly, knuckles turning white where her fingers gripped her glass. “Because I wouldn’t go with you to the funeral.”

Her bluntness sent a shockwave through him and he stared at her, momentarily aghast that she would even verbalise her wrongdoing. The final act of unkindness that had been the lit match to the decimation of their relationship. He swallowed thickly, head spinning; his surprise even dulling the white-hot rage that usually accompanied his recollection of their last few days together.

“That -… that was…” Scorpius felt his throat tightening. Rose stared at him, her eyes communicating something he didn’t know how to read. “If that was the all of it, then we might have managed to salvage something of this,” he gestured angrily between them, adding, “whatever _this_ was.”

Rose frowned at his dismissive wave but said nothing.

“Did you think I was happy before then? That I was blissfully unaware of how obviously ashamed of me you were? We were together almost two years and you never introduced me to your friends, never even told your family about us!” he attempted to keep his voice low and even. They were starting to receive curious stares from the waitstaff circling the tables.

He watched Rose gnawing on the inside of her cheek, a tick he recognised as denoting anxiety. _Good_ , he thought, she deserved to feel on edge. Not that any of this was news, however. They’d fought about this on repeat in the days, weeks, leading up to their departure from one another. The fact that, when at his lowest in grief, she had refused to accompany him to his own father’s funeral for fear of the inevitable _Daily Prophet_ coverage, had only been the final nail in the coffin – no pun intended.

She’d been right about the photographers of course. Too good to miss: the notably thin crowd mourning the one-time Death Eater turned something of a recluse, managing the Malfoy estate and businesses from behind closed doors for the rest of his too-short life. And maybe Scorpius hadn’t been entirely honourable himself, allowing Bianca Nott to comfort him at the graveside, knowing they’d be photographed together and knowing that Rose would see it as she ate her breakfast the next morning. And no, it certainly hadn’t been honourable of him to wait until dark, till she was asleep in their once shared bed, to return to the flat for the meagre assortment of belongings she’d allowed him to keep there. He hadn’t bothered to say goodbye.

Not that she’d ever attempted to come after him, either. He’d spent the last few years assuming she hadn’t even noticed he had gone, until he’d heard about her melancholy turn from her cousins this past week.

So maybe she had cared, maybe he had hurt her too. It didn’t matter now and it certainly didn’t change anything. Did it? 

It was Rose who pulled him from his spiralling thoughts, as she knocked back the rest of her wine in one smooth, well-practiced motion before turning to stand. She struggled to meet his eye: “It’s important that you know that what’s happening with Teddy…well, it’s nothing salacious. It’s necessary and regrettable but it comes from a place of love, or else it wouldn’t be happening at all.”

Scorpius stared at her. He had absolutely no idea what that might mean.

She took a few uncertain steps towards the door and paused by his chair. Her hand hovered by her side and Scorpius has a fleeting urge to reach out and hold it.

“And I’m sorry, but you’re wrong” she muttered at last, jostling her purse in awkward arms. “I was never ashamed of you. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Scorpius watched her step out into the street, a whirlwind of auburn curls and emotional torment, and ordered himself another drink.

**

Adrian Creevey’s owl found him that evening, three sheets to the wind and halfway through a fresh bottle of Ogden’s. It took him a few attempts to read the scrawled note, blinking until the letters fell into place. This new information was going to cost him, it seemed, but in good faith he’d already included it in his owl.

The Portkey booked under the name of Rose Weasley had been a one-way journey to Vielha, an area just South of the Pyrennes in the Catalonian region of Spain, as he’d suspected. And someone – evidently not Rose, as she was busy running around muggle London and wreaking havoc on his fragile psyche – had successfully completed the journey on the date in question. 

Scorpius sank back into the sofa with a grim smile. He really ought to take Creevey out for a drink when this was all over. Then again, he considered the requested payment – a collector’s edition chocolate frog card featuring Adalbert Waffling, famous Magical Theoretician – perhaps not.

Teddy Lupin was in Vielha, he was sure of it. And Rose Weasley had put him there. The only question that remained was why.

He was seconds away from succumbing to an alcohol induced slumber when a flash of recognition jolted him from the couch cushions. _Hogwarts A History: Volume II_ lay open on the desk from his research into Lupin’s parents, but he needed to go a little further back – to the formation of Dumbledore’s Army.

Something Scorpius’ had always found particularly impressive from that chapter of history was the means of communication that a young Hermione Granger had created to arrange meetings for their clandestine organisation. A rather nifty bit of magic for a Fifth-Year student, but then again, Scorpius supposed, they probably didn’t give out patronising nicknames like the ‘brightest witch of an age’ for nothing. The charmed coins had also been used later in the Second Wizarding War to pass messages amongst the Order, and many had been kept by former members as a sort of token – a badge of honour – something to remember their war efforts by.

He turned to a page depicting one such coin. Apart from the written message etched on the outer rim in place of a serial number, it looked like any other normal galleon. Just like the one he’d watched Rose fidgeting with all day, for instance.

**

_The library was particularly busy that Wednesday evening. The school holidays were just over a week away and the older years were suffering under the weight of the end of term workload. Scorpius found himself, as was his custom, tucked between the shelves on Gnome Species Indigenous to Britain and Goblin Wars of the Eighteenth Century. He’d found this particular spot in his fourth year - a hidden nook at the end of an L-shaped aisle. It had surprisingly good lighting and, most importantly, a table that didn’t wobble._

_No one else had ever seemed to notice the secluded spot, which suited him perfectly, and explained why it took him an odd number of seconds to realise that the noise he could now hear was actually a voice being directed at him, one accompanied by a questioning stare._

_Startled by the burst of colour hovering in front of him – the bright blue eyes, the auburn curls and red and gold tie stark against her uniform shirt – Scorpius could only stare back at her, dumbly._

_“I said, can I sit here? All the other tables are full.” Rose Weasley offered him an apologetic grimace._

_Swallowing quickly, Scorpius nodded, sliding his textbooks along the desk to make room for her._

_“Thanks,” she slid into an empty seat across from him. Her eyes flicked up to his face and he realised, belatedly, that he was still staring at her._

_She half-smiled, “I’m, er, I’m Rose,” and offered a shy hand._

_Scorpius would have laughed, if he were the laughing sort. “I know who you are.”_

_Her hand faltered and he bit the inside of his cheek. Stupid. Of course he knew who she was – no one makes it through six and half years of schooling, even if you share hardly any of the same classes, without knowing the name of the prettiest girl in the year. But that wasn’t what this was about._

_“Sorry,” he muttered, “I’m Scorpius… Malfoy.”_

_Obviously, she knew who he was too, but she shook his outstretched hand and smiled lightly before turning to her books, the faintest blush of colour at her cheeks._

_When Scorpius returned to his table the following evening, satchel weighing heavily on one shoulder, he found Rose already seated there, books and parchment scattered around her. She bit her lip and looked up, guiltily, as his shadow fell over her work. Scorpius felt the hair on the back of his neck stand to attention._

_“It’s nice and quiet here,” she offered, in way of explanation. “Do you mind sharing?”_

_He shook his head – no, he didn’t mind at all – and silently took the seat opposite her. That was the first time she properly smiled at him and the first time he realised just how much trouble he was in._

**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: ALERT: this is NOT the final chapter. My estimation of a 4 chapter fic was a tad ambitious, it seems. I don't have nearly enough self-control or the gift for pacing to have managed that. We're almost there, just not quite. I have changed the rating to Mature - on consideration of the amount of bad language and sexual references, it seemed appropriate.
> 
> Thanks as always to those commenting and bookmarking etc. And I hope everyone is safe and well out there!

Vielha – or as the wider municipality was known: Vielha e Mijaran – could be found tucked into the foothills of the Pyrennes, in the Aran Valley. It was connected to France and the neighbouring areas of Catalonia by the Vielha Tunnel but, prior to its construction in the late 1970s, the only means of accessing the valley had been via a mountain road, the higher passes of which were almost entirely inaccessible in the winter months. Thus, making it one of the hardest to reach places on the European mainland and an excellent place to disappear to.

Approximately ten kilometres South of the town of Vielha and reachable via a steep climb, was a circular body of water – the alpine Lac de Rius – with a densely forested island in the centre, too far from shore to be reached without a boat. Sitting at approximately four thousand metres above sea level, the altitude was just high enough to discourage all but the most determined visitors. And those that stayed for too long or climbed too quickly would complain of feelings of sickness, light headedness and extreme fatigue that would significantly hamper their journey.

The weather in the area was generally inclement, even in the Summer, and there was an abundance of wild goat and marmots in the hills, trout in the lake, and bearded vultures often nested on the surrounding cliffs. The nearest magical community could be found over forty kilometres away in La Guingeta d’Aneu, which happened to be a common source of newt tails for potion making, and where Alvoro Pacheco-Nomen, noted magical astronomer with his own chocolate frog card (if Scorpius had to guess, he’d say Creevey already had three of them), had once lived.

Scorpius felt he now knew everything there was to know about Vielha and Lac de Rius, except for one fundamental thing: he had absolutely no fucking idea what Teddy Lupin was doing there.

Staring up at the dark canopy of his bed, he longed for the heavy embrace of sleep. He was back at the Manor again, having spent another fruitless afternoon in the library, and his mother couldn’t believe her luck. Two visits in a week was something of a rarity these days. He’d had a fitful, restless night following his encounter with Rose and the copious amounts of alcohol it had prompted; vivid yet half-forgotten dreams of blue and red ties, dark hallways and musty broom cupboards. He’d woken with the taste of fresh blackberries and corked wine lingering on his senses. It had left him feeling irritable and unsatisfied for the rest of the day.

He’d directed his frustrations at the case, however, as was his habit, and practically torn the library apart trying to find a reason that his missing quarry might have fled to the Spanish wilderness. Needless to say, he came up miserably empty handed.

He felt sure that the reason for Lupin’s disappearance lay in the location itself. Afterall, the man seemed to have nothing to run from, so it stood to reason he was running _to_ something. It was also an unnecessarily hazardous place to hide, if hiding had been the only goal. Especially since, considering Lupin’s status as a Metamorphagus, he could just as easily have disguised himself in his own front room and never been found.

No, there was definitely something there, in Vielha. Something other than the vultures and the trout and the pickled newt’s tails. Something that was conspicuously missing from any of the published material on the area. Something that Teddy Lupin and Rose Weasley had somehow discovered and wanted badly enough for him to abandon his fiancé and family and go in search of it.

The thought of Rose sent Scorpius’ head spinning off in an unhelpful direction. With a curse, he tossed and turned amongst the sheets, turning the pillow so it was cool against his cheek. The night felt heavy, warm and oppressive. It reminded him too much of the sticky heat of a body pressed against his, sweat mingling as they moved together, a curtain of auburn hair around his face and his name on her lips.

He didn’t want to dwell on her words, but he didn’t seem to know how to stop himself. She claimed she hadn’t been ashamed of him, but he didn’t see how that was possible. What other reason could there have been for keeping him so separate and isolated from every other aspect of her life? At school, when they’d first become involved in their final year of studies, he had understood – the Hogwarts rumour mill was a powerful force and besides, they’d had N.E.W.T.s and graduation to worry about. It had been after that, as they’d begun to navigate the adult world of responsibilities and relationships and yet she’d still kept him at arm’s length, that the obvious divide had started to rot away at his affections.

With a grunt, Scorpius snatched up the spare pillow, pressing it over his head in an attempt to block out unwelcome thoughts. He could already feel his old emotions – the ones he’d carefully dismantled and locked away in some dusty corner of himself – creeping back to the surface. He needed to find Lupin, solve this case, and get as far away from Rose Weasley as possible.

**

_“Where are we?” Scorpius turned to take in the room, eyes darting from the map in her hands to the door behind them, already rippling out of view._

_She smiled coyly, tucking the folded parchment into her pocket. “You won’t find it on there. The Room of Requirement, ever heard of it?”_

_He shook his head and looked up at the vaulted ceiling – an image of the night sky glinted back at him, much like the effect on the Great Hall. It wasn’t an accurate depiction for the time of year, he noted, as he could easily make out the Scorpius constellation which didn’t normally show itself to the Northern hemisphere till July. He took in the scattered candles, the pile of cushions around a small basket filled with food, and glanced sideways at her. She blushed._

_He didn’t think he would ever tire of seeing Rose Weasley blush._

_She cleared her throat nervously, “You ask it for something… or think it, I’m not sure, and it just sort of appears.”_

_“What did you ask it for?”_

_Rose’s cheeks turned a shade darker and she fiddled with her cloak. “Somewhere we wouldn’t be interrupted.”_

_His spine tingled and he reached for her, instinctively, but she moved out of arms reach towards the cushions. He watched her emptying out the basket – a hulk of bread and cheese, a large bowl of blackberries and a flask of pumpkin juice laid out on a blanket._

_She looked up and caught his frown. “Ever the Ravenclaw poster-boy, aren’t you?” she chuckled. “Don’t fret, the fundamentals of Elemental Transfiguration still exist as we know them. I brought this from the kitchens earlier.”_

_His mouth quirked. “Seems rather presumptuous. I’m supposed to be in Arithmancy right now, as are you. What if I’d refused to come?”_

_She flicked her lively blue gaze to his. “Then all the more for me.”_

_It had been three months since she’d appeared at his desk in the library. Twelve or so weeks of furtive glances across the Great Hall, sneaking into the kitchens after curfew, and stolen moments between the Herbology greenhouses. Scorpius was acutely aware that this was the happiest he’d felt, possibly in his entire life. Whilst most of their fellow seventh years were slowly turning mad under the weight of the approaching exams, he felt lighter and more sure of himself than before. He felt as if his world had simultaneously expanded and become entirely focused on just one singularity._

_He was utterly besotted with Rose Weasley. And no one even knew._

_It wasn’t until later, when their basket was empty, the deep purple juice of the blackberries staining their lips, that Scorpius felt the familiar prickling sensation of unease. His hand stopped its ministrations in her curls where her head rested against his chest, his other hand grasped in hers._

_“You know,” he muttered, staring up at his namesake on the ceiling above, “I wouldn’t mind being interrupted, at some point.”_

_She lifted her head and gave him an odd look. He grimaced at his phrasing._

_“I mean, we don’t always have to meet in secret. We like each other. I don’t mind if people know that.”_

_Rose’s face clouded. He felt her hand twist out of his grasp. His lungs felt instantly heavy._

_“I thought we’d agreed -,”_

_“I agreed because that’s what you seemed to want. I never said it was what I wanted.”_

_He watched her shoulders rise and fall. “I just don’t think… You know what Fred and Louis are like -,”_

_“No, not really.” That was sort of the point._

_She frowned. “It’s not only them. The other Gryffindors can be funny about this sort of thing and my family, they’re… well, they wouldn’t -,”_

_“Forget it,” Scorpius pressed his mouth into a thin line. Rose turned to stare at him with those wide blue eyes. “Just forget it. It doesn’t matter.”_

_And he almost meant it. He shrugged and pulled her back to him, losing himself in the warmth of her skin, the taste of her lips. It didn’t matter, he told himself; not then, not really. He was there and she was with him, and they’d just skipped Arithmancy to fool around in the Room of Requirement. And that’s all that really matters when you’re only eighteen._

**

Dominique Weasley did not like to be kept waiting.

Scorpius knew this, and yet he purposefully took his time as he made his way to The Leaky Cauldron. He hadn’t quite worked out how he wanted to play this, how much he wanted to let her know. Dominique was a smart woman and he’d asked her for a favour – as a fellow Ravenclaw alumnus, he was sure she’d require her re-payment in the form of information. He just didn’t know how much he wanted to share.

“You’re late.”

He found her in a booth close to the fireplace – thankfully unlit given the weather – and nursing a half empty tumbler of Gillywater. Her blonde hair was pulled up into French plait and her lipstick was pristine. Scorpius slid into the seat opposite her, offering a grim smile by way of apology.

Dominique narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you were delayed in some way relating to my sister’s case.”

“Of course,” he tilted his head a fraction and met her questioning stare, impassively.

“Hmm,” she grumbled, eyes rolling skyward when she realised he wasn’t going to be any more forthcoming. Glancing quickly about the room, she dipped a well-manicured hand into her bag and pulled out the item he’d asked for. It was carefully wrapped in a piece of black cloth.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you wanted this, either?” her fingers still rested on it, reluctant to relinquish her bargaining chip.

“Would you believe me if I said you’d probably rather not know?”

“Not knowing is never preferable,” she arched a slim eyebrow. “ _Scientia potentia est_ , as they say.” 

Scorpius chuckled, darkly. “I’m hoping I might be able to use it to contact him.”

“‘Him’? As in Teddy?!” Dominique’s eyes widened. “The bastard’s still alive then?”

Scorpius used her momentary distraction to slide to cloth wrapped galleon from beneath her fingers. He peeled back the fabric and weighed the heavy gold coin in his hands. It looked exactly like the one he’d seen Rose fiddling with – and exactly like every other galleon in Gringotts, of course, but for the missing serial number. This particular coin was still displaying an old message:

_Lightning has struck. Come prepared to fight._

He and Dominique stared at it in silence, both feeling the gravity of history that currently sat gleaming in Scorpius’ palm.

“Is that from -?” he started.

“I think so,” she nodded, watching as he laid it carefully on the table, still partially wrapped in cloth. “This particular coin belonged to Dean Thomas and it summoned him to the Battle of Hogwarts. He donated it to the Ministry’s historical artefacts collection last year. And if anyone notices that it’s missing then it’ll be my neck on the line.”

Scorpius flicked his eyes up to meet her steely gaze. “I’ll have it back to you as soon as I can and I won’t let it out of my sight until then, you have my word. Out of interest, how many of these do you think are still in circulation?”

Dominique took another sip of her drink and then pursed her lips in thought. “Well, Aunt Hermione made over a dozen initially, and some were replicated for use in the Order. I know of five or six that have been donated to various museums. The others must either be in private collections or still with the original owners.”

“Do you think it’s likely your aunt still has hers?”

Dominique eyed him suspiciously. “It’s possible, certainly. My dad often says that Uncle Ron has an unhealthy dose of nostalgia for the days of the Golden Trio. Their attic is a veritable treasure trove for that sort of thing. Why do you ask?”

Scorpius smiled at her ruefully; they really didn’t let just anyone into Ravenclaw, of course. “I suppose I’m just wondering where Lupin might have acquired one.”

He spotted the flicker of scepticism as it passed through her stare. “It’s very likely one or both of his parents had one, during the war. Perhaps it was passed on to him that way.”

“Perhaps,” he nodded thoughtfully, carefully folding the coin back within the delicate cloth and slipping it into his jacket pocket. He watched the way Dominique’s anxious eyes followed it and patted it gently as if to reassure them both.

They sat for a moment in a heavy silence. Scorpius watched her finish her drink and noted the way she fidgeted with the glass. Evidently, she had something she wanted to say and was working up to it. He was in no rush.

“Can I ask you a favour, now?” she said at last, her voice strained. Scorpius nodded slightly and waited for her to continue. “I saw my sister yesterday and she was…inconsolable,” her jaw clenched, angrily. “So, if you do get it working, and you manage to speak to Teddy… please tell him from me: if the reason he left Victoire was anything short of an imminent threat to life, then I will personally fucking kill him if he ever comes home.”

**

The charmed galleon sat nestled in its bed of dark cloth and gleaming in the light from the nearby desk lamp. Scorpius frowned at it for the sixtieth time that evening. Whilst the message etched along its outer rim was fascinating from a historical perspective, he had been rather hoping to see something that supported his theory that Teddy and Rose were using the old DA coins to communicate with each other since he’d disappeared.

He understood that the coins had originally worked on the basis of the Protean charm. This meant that when someone altered the message on the original coin (to the time and date of a meeting, for example), all the others would change simultaneously. However, if this were still the case and all the coins remained linked to the master copy, it should have meant that the galleon currently sitting on Scorpius’ desk would be showing the last message sent between Rose and Lupin, and not one sent in the heat of battle over thirty years ago.

It was highly probable, he realised belatedly, that alterations had been made to the coins throughout the war, allowing those other than the original to transmit messages, or for direct messages to be sent between specific coins. He also knew that Rose was particularly talented at charms – it had even been her best N.E.W.T. subject, if he remembered rightly – and so he was sure she could have taken the necessary precautions to ensure their communications were not so easily discovered. He’d spent the last few hours attempting a few charms of his own, hoping to find a way to connect this coin to the ones they might be using, but with absolutely no success.

 _Damn it all_ , he cursed. At this rate, the only hope he had of figuring out what Lupin was up to was if the man himself waltzed into this office and proceeded to reveal his master plan by way of a musical number sung by the old Hogwarts Frog Choir.

Resigning himself to the idea of another failed lead, he eased himself out of his father’s old chair, stretching his aching back muscles, and pulled his shirt off over his head. He would shower and then sleep; perhaps tomorrow would shed more light on this damnable mess. Perhaps he’d find the courage to confront Rose again, or perhaps he’d just book himself a portkey to Vielha and throw himself – unprepared and ill-informed – into the unknown. The latter certainly sounded more appealing.

He’d barely made it halfway to the bathroom, however, when the flames of the Floo suddenly roared into life. The room was bathed in a violent green hue and Scorpius spun on his heel, wand in hand, to face the intruder. And whilst the fates were not quite so kind as to hand-deliver him Teddy Lupin, they hadn’t fallen far of their mark.

Rose Weasley stepped out of his fireplace, quickly brushed a smudge of soot from her cheek and turned to stare at him from across the room.

“Weasley, what are -?” Scorpius stalled, wand still raised, as he quickly took in the sight of her.

She looked… stricken. There was no other word for it. Her porcelain complexion had turned grey with worry. Her hair looked dishevelled, as if she’d been raking her hands through it all evening. Those accursed blue eyes were wide and nervous, her gaze darting about the room and momentarily falling on the galleon laid out and glinting on his desk. She hesitantly opened her palm and Scorpius saw an identical coin – the one he had seen her with the previous day – clutched in her grasp. 

“What is it? What’s happened?” Scorpius barked, at once. He knew panic when he saw it.

Rose turned to look at him properly. He watched her eyes drop to his bare chest and, even in the midst of whatever fear had driven her to his door, her cheeks bloomed with colour.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, swallowing quickly, her nervous gaze darting again between the coin in her hand and the one on his desk. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I think… I think that Teddy’s in trouble. I need your help.” 

**

 _It had been one of their typical lazy Sundays. They’d woken early (Rose had yet to purchase proper curtains for the bedroom window), and fucked languidly amongst strewn sheets. He’d made them breakfast whilst she sipped at her coffee on the counter beside him, growing increasingly frustrated with the clue for 12 down in the_ Daily Prophet _crossword._

 _He peered over her shoulder, stealing a mouthful of coffee. “It’s discontented. ‘Restless and unhappy’_ , _twelve letters, starts with a ‘D’… Discontented. Trust me.”_

_She grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “Bloody Ravenclaws”, but scribbled it down all the same. He bit back a grin._

_They would normally have headed in the direction of muggle London for the afternoon, but Rose needed a book on magical portrait restoration for a project at work – the first one she had been given the lead on since starting her new job – and so a trip to Flourish & Blott’s was in order. Scorpius knew by now that they didn’t hold hands walking through Diagon Alley, and so he slipped them into his coat pockets to avoid temptation. _

_They’d gotten distracted, as they usually did when surrounded by row upon row of books, and Scorpius was chuckling to himself, watching as she relocated_ ‘Voyages with Vampires; by Gilderoy Lockhart’ _with the usual gusto, when a voice burst their bubble of domestic bliss._

_“Rosie?”_

_Rose flinched away from him with the speed of a hexed bludger. Scorpius was glad in the moment that he hadn’t been touching her, or else he might have had his arm ripped off in the process. James Potter was stood at the end of the aisle, grinning jovially at his cousin. Scorpius watched as the other man’s gaze landed on him, watched his brow furrowing in poorly disguised confusion._

_“James!” Rose was exclaiming, her voice sounding unnaturally high to Scorpius’ ear. “I didn’t know you were back from training!”_

_James was still looking past her, to where Scorpius stood awkwardly. “Malfoy,” he nodded curtly. “You two here together, or something?”_

_“Don’t be silly. We just bumped into each other, that’s all,” Rose stepped towards her cousin, enveloping him in a hug in a valiant attempt to distract him from the scene he’d just stumbled across._

_Scorpius knew the eldest Potter sibling didn’t like him. He’d made it perfectly clear during their school days what he thought of him – which seemed to be very little. Scorpius had never done anything in particular to offend the man, as far as he knew, but they were polar opposites. A clash of personalities. James probably found him stuck up and boring. Scorpius thought James was a thick-headed show off._

_“Let me take you out for lunch,” James pulled at Rose’s arm, not giving Scorpius so much as a second thought._

_Rose faltered, “Oh, erm…” she glanced sheepishly over her shoulder, “that’s really lovely of you but I -,”_

_“Come on! I haven’t seen you in weeks. Let’s go to Florean’s, yeah?”_

_Scorpius watched on, stony-faced and impassive. He happened to know that Rose hated Florean Fortescue’s – they’d gone together once and an over excited child had smeared mint chocolate ice cream all over her dress. He considered telling Potter this, biting his tongue at the last moment._

_James seemed a little put out by her stalling. “What’s the matter?” he glanced between the two of them again. “Do you want me to invite Malfoy along? We’ll have to get a table for four then, need the extra room for that stick up his arse -,”_

_“Stop it, James!” Rose cried. Scorpius spotted the tips of her ears grow pink._

_“Excuse me, but I ought to be going,” he heard himself muttering, darkly. Rose’s head snapped up, blue eyes seeking out his gaze which he steadfastly ignored. He thrust the book he’d been carrying for her into her arms, revelling in the scowl her cousin shot at him. “I think that’s the one you were looking for, Weasley. Nice to… ‘bump into you.’”_

_He didn’t bother going back to her flat even though he had a key. He’d apparated straight to the Manor and spent the afternoon in the library with his father, staring angrily at the book he was pretending to read. To make matters worse, his mother had failed to mention that she’d invited the Notts for dinner until it was too late for him to leave without being inexcusably rude._

_He found himself seated – tactically, he was sure, from the way his mother kept smiling at him – next to the younger of the two sisters, Bianca, his old classmate and regrettable childhood flame. If Scorpius had ever stumbled across a boggart, he was quite sure it would have taken the form of an evening alone in the girl’s company. Rose had always found her particularly loathsome too, which might have explained what possessed him to invite her to share the Malfoy family box at the next Wimbourne Wasps game._

_Bianca had been thrilled, his mother even more so. His father had given him an incredulous look and Scorpius had shrugged and poured himself more wine._

**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, confession time: this is also not the last chapter. It is, however, very very long so I hope that will make up for teasing you, dear readers. This is actually our penultimate chapter so we are very nearly there. Hope you are all still safe and well out there in this mad, mad world!
> 
> Huge shout-out to those who've left comments so far - it's been brilliant to hear all your theories! Now, perhaps all shall be revealed!

Scorpius stared at Rose, a growing sense of alarm prickling beneath his skin with every gulp of air that wracked her slim shoulders. His wand, still held aloft in his grasp, waivered uncertainly.

“What do you mean? What’s happened?” he asked again.

She’d been standing there staring at him for a long minute, yet to move away from the fireplace that she’d practically tripped out of only moments ago, seemingly hesitant about coming any further into the room or closer to him. He could see the uncertainty in her stare, in the way she clenched and unclenched her fingers around the hard edges of the charmed galleon held tight in her left fist.

“For Salazar’s sake, Weasley, you came to me, remember?! I can’t help you or Lupin if you don’t tell me what’s going on. What’s in Vielha?”

She looked up sharply. “How do you know about Vielha?”

“It’s my job to know -,” he bit back a snarl. He thought about the map he’d seen in Rose’s flat – the map he’d seen after breaking in, uninvited – and a stab of shame mingled with his irritation. “It doesn’t matter how I know. Why do you think he’s in trouble?”

Her brow furrowed, her lips almost forming words that never materialised. She’d gotten this far but was still clearly engaged in some kind of internal war. Loyalty to Lupin, perhaps. Mistrust in him. Both weighed up against obvious fear for her friend and her desire to help him in some way.

Scorpius watched her carefully, vaguely aware of the speed of his own pulse, which had begun to trip erratically since she’d first appeared out of the Floo. There were very few people that the wards here in his office would allow to enter unannounced like that. Odd, he thought, that he’d clearly never bothered to change them since they’d walked out of each other’s lives.

“Look,” he made a show of laying his wand on the desk, showing he was unarmed and not a physical threat, at least. “Why don’t I tell you what I already know, and you can fill in the blanks?” When she didn’t speak or suggest anything different, he continued: “Lupin’s in Vielha, most likely near Lac de Rius. You booked him a Portkey to get there, one way, and you’ve been communicating with him ever since with that galleon in your hand. Right, so far?”

Rose swallowed nervously but nodded.

Scorpius took a tentative step towards her. He felt as if he were approaching a skittish animal; if he moved too fast, he might spook her. “I know where he is, I just don’t know why. My best guess is it has something to do with the island in the middle of the lake, but I can’t seem to put it all together. I have no idea why you’re both doing this or what could possibly be so important -,”

She made an odd little sound at that and Scorpius stopped and looked at her intently. “But that’s the simple part,” she muttered, “I assumed you’d met with Victoire; that you’d seen her in person?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I did, but I don’t see -,”

“Then it’s been staring you in the face from the very start, Malfoy.”

**

_“Are you meeting **her** , again?”_

_Scorpius glanced up, fingers pausing over his shirt buttons, to meet Rose’s cool stare in the mirror. “What if I am?”_

_Rose sniffed and pretended to return to her book. She hadn’t turned the page in the last ten minutes, though, and Scorpius wasn’t fooled. “This is the second time this week you’re seeing her. How nice that you’ve suddenly become such good friends.”_

_Rose had yet to master the art of subtle sarcasm – too much Gryffindor in her – and Scorpius found he took a perverse pleasure in hearing her overly acerbic tone._

_He continued buttoning up his shirt. “She’s an old family friend, we’ve known each other for years -,”_

_“You once called her a vacuous bint.”_

_“– and it turns out we have more in common than I originally thought,” he arched a slim eyebrow, gazes locking once again in their reflection._

_They’d been arguing like this for weeks, ever since they’d run into James at Flourish & Blott’s. Arguing wasn’t really the word – more like sniping, bickering, making waspish and underhanded comments to each other whenever the mood took them. They were being damn well unpleasant to each other and neither of them seemed to know how to fix it. _

_He still loved her, that much he knew. And the sex was still phenomenal. Maybe even better, as it was now charged with something raw and electric; as if each of them was trying to communicate their true feelings through their deep and intense kisses, the hands gripping at bare flesh, the desperate thrusts and trembling orgasms. It was exhilarating and exhausting, and Scorpius simultaneously never wanted it stop and wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take._

_He’d taken Bianca Nott to that stupid Quidditch game. And he’d been as surprised as anyone to find he didn’t actually have that terrible a time. Bianca was easy company – she made small talk that didn’t have several layers of hidden meanings and laughed at his jokes. Most importantly, though, she didn’t seem embarrassed to be seen with him. Quite the opposite, in fact, as she hadn’t stopped introducing him to people as her date the entire afternoon._

_They’d since fallen into an easy rhythm of lunches out and meeting for drinks. They’d even been to a few functions together, something to do with her various charity work that involved showing off by dressing up, all the while pretending to care for whatever cause she was championing on that occasion._

_Scorpius fumbled with a pair of silver cufflinks. The air felt thick with anticipation, but Rose’s small voice cut through it like a well-aimed Unforgiveable._

_“Does she know about me?”_

_The sheer hypocrisy of her statement knocked the wind out of him and he stared at her, speechless. Of course, he was also internally revelling. He’d be lying if he said the main motivator behind his new found friendship hadn’t been the jealous looks and comments he’d received from the woman now glaring at him from the bed._

_He squared his shoulders. “Can you name me a single one of your cousins, aunts or uncles who is even aware that I exist, never mind practically living here with you?”_

_“That’s different,” she hissed, her book tossed to the side, entirely forgotten._

_“How?”_

_“For one thing, I’m fairly sure none of my immediate family are trying to fuck me.”_

_Scorpius winced slightly but said nothing. He had happily convinced himself that his various liaisons with Bianca were entirely platonic – that he accompanied her as a friend and nothing more. Certainly, he would never cross that line and he knew that nothing more intimate would ever happen between them. He just wasn’t entirely sure that Bianca knew that too._

_He clenched his jaw and tugged on his jacket with a shrug. “We can talk about this when I get home. I’m late.”_

_Rose made a move towards him, as if to stop him from leaving. She faltered though, her hand partially outstretched, and Scorpius watched her fingers twitch as she yanked it back to her side._

_“Give Nott my very warmest regards,” she sneered._

_Scorpius smirked again at her sheer lack of delicacy and walked out of the flat without another word._

**

Scorpius was momentarily at a loss. He thought back to the evening that Victoire Weasley had turned up in his office: she’d certainly appeared compellingly heartbroken, a picture of romantic distress. He remembered the way her fingers twisted and pulled at her handkerchief, the way her hand kept fluttering, unconsciously, to the barely visible swell of her stomach -

It clicked into place and he looked up at Rose, eyes focusing sharply.

“This is about her pregnancy.”

It wasn’t a question but Rose nodded, anyway. Something in her posture relaxed slightly – perhaps relieved that he had guessed correctly and (almost) of his own accord, rather than having to truly break her silence. Scorpius sincerely hoped she was going to offer more of an explanation, however, as this really only left him with more questions than answers.

Suddenly, she started pacing, wearing away at the already thread-bare carpet, and knotted a hand amidst her distressed curls. “You know about Teddy’s father, I presume?”

“Of course. But I checked your man’s medical records, no trace of Lycanthropy.”

Rose arched an eyebrow – technically speaking, acquiring someone’s medical records without their express consent was illegal – but she didn’t press the matter. “Yes. Recently, however, there’s been some isolated case studies suggesting that the trait may be able to skip a generation, manifesting in the children of those who were never directly afflicted themselves.”

He frowned. Wizarding biology was hardly his area of expertise, but even he could remember a few things from his Defence Against the Dark Arts studies. “But, if that were the case, it’d have to be a recessive trait, surely? There’d have to be some element of it encoded in the magical essence of both parents -,”

“Victoire’s father was scratched by Fenrir Greyback,” she cut him off, matter-of-factly. “He’s never transformed or anything, but it was enough to worry Teddy.”

Scorpius took a moment to let this new information sink in. He thought of Victoire sat in front of his desk, her eyes glassy and worry palpable. “She said he didn’t know,” he muttered, suddenly feeling rather foolish.

Rose gave a funny sort of snort at that. “Victoire isn’t nearly as subtle as she’d like to think. And Teddy’s a Healer, for Rowena’s sake. He recognised all the symptoms – the nausea, the mood swings – never mind the supplements that had started being delivered by the apothecary owl every week.”

Scorpius cursed through clenched teeth and ran a hand through his hair. Of course, Lupin had known – and he, in turn, should have figured as much. His pride over his own intellect occasionally led him to underestimate others, as if only he were capable of spotting these little signs, making these clever deductions. It was stupid and dangerous and had caused him to chase his own tail over this case for far too long.

“Through his contacts at St Mungo’s and the Lycanthropy clinic,” Rose continued, “Teddy had heard a rumour about cases where the progeny of werewolves, although not afflicted themselves, had gone on to have children who showed traits or even fully transformed,” she was pacing again, eyes on the carpet as she spoke quickly. “There was talk of a pack living somewhere in Spain that had removed themselves from society altogether, out in the wild but away from other people so they wouldn’t pose a threat on a full moon. We managed to trace them to the Lac de Rius.”

Scorpius’ head swam with visions of the map from Rose’s living room. The difficult to reach town at the base of the Pyrennes mountains, the densely forested island surrounded by all that water – too deep and wide to simply swim across to shore. Did werewolves even swim, he wondered, silently?

“One of the cases that we’d been attempting to track had supposedly joined them a few years ago, living out there in the middle of the lake. Teddy said he needed to find them and see for himself.”

“Why?!” Scorpius couldn’t help himself. Even though he could certainly understand Lupin’s desire to know all of the facts, his own highly-tuned self-preservation instincts couldn’t come to terms with the man’s actions. Of all the foolish, irresponsible, poorly thought out plans… “Why put himself at risk like that? And why wouldn’t he tell your cousin – his fiancé – any of this? She’s just as much right to know about it as anyone, surely.”

Rose set her jaw, determinedly. He supposed she’d been expecting to have to defend his and her actions at some point and had a speech prepared for the occasion.

“Because the research is anecdotal at best,” she started. “It’s all just rumour and hearsay up to this point. These cases, if they do exist, are incredibly rare and are hardly going to be willing to come forward, what with all the history of maltreatment and the inevitable stigma. Not to mention they’d be set upon by the Healers who’d want to poke and prod and do goodness knows what else to them for the advancement of their own knowledge!” She shook her head – whether in outrage at the unfortunate circumstances of these supposed third generation werewolves or Scorpius’ apparent stupidity, he couldn’t tell. “Teddy said he had to be certain, before -,”

She faltered and Scorpius took the opportunity to put himself directly in her path. “Before what, Rose?”

She looked up at him, flinching at the sound of her given name. He’d intentionally blocked her emergency escape route back towards the Floo.

“Before… before it was too late to do anything about the pregnancy,” her fingers set to working over the galleon again. He caught the hint of distress in her tone. “There are suggestions that carrying such a child to term could be incredibly dangerous for the mother and… well, if by some miracle they do both survive until labour, then the mortality rate…” she met his unwavering gaze and swallowed quickly, “If Teddy and Victoire conceived a child that was afflicted by the Lycanthropy curse, it’s highly unlikely that she would survive it.”

Rose fell quiet then, her brow furrowed. 

Scorpius let the gravity of that statement wash over him, ignoring the faint creak of the cauldron shop sign as it swayed in the wind just outside the window. He had a sudden intrusive vision of Rose, pregnant with his own child, and the idea of watching her waste away as it grew within her, or worse – to die screaming in a blood soaked, agonising labour from something _he_ had put inside of her – made him feel light headed with a potent combination of rage and terror.

He wondered, idly, if Dominique would be satisfied – it seemed there had been an imminent threat to life, after all. Just not the life she’d been expecting.

Rose let out a huff of shaky air, distracting him from his violent imaginings. “I begged him to tell Victoire, of course I did! If the risks were that high then _of course_ she needed to know. But, apparently, they’d been trying to conceive for a while before all of this and he was worried she wouldn’t listen to him without proof. If it was all true then…” she stumbled over her words, face flushing with sadness, “well, the pregnancy is only in its early stages and there are potions that could have taken care of things. And if it all turned out to be nonsense, then he didn’t want to frighten her.”

He stared at her, jaw dropping open in incredulity, “Well, she’s a good deal more than _frightened_ now! Fuck Merlin, she thinks the man might be dead!”

“Well, it was never meant to take this long!” Rose snapped at him, defensively, hands raking through her wild curls yet again. “The Portkey left on the Sunday and he should have been back by mid-week, but he said he needed more time. And now -,” she looked down at the galleon, gleaming in her sweat-sheened palm. Scorpius spotted the fear that lingered at the corner of her eyes. “– he’s stopped replying altogether. I haven’t heard from him in almost two days.”

The final piece of the puzzle fell into place before his eyes. “And you think something must have happened to him.”

She nodded, swallowing quickly. “We had an agreement – I helped him with his research, sorted the Portkey and promised I would keep it all a secret. And, in return, he took one of the coins with him and sent a message every day so I knew he was safe. He’s never missed a single day until now.”

That creeping, prickling sensation was back. It itched along Scorpius’ spine. “Is it possible the charm on the coins has simply stopped working?”

Rose gave him an unimpressed look. “You are aware of my mother’s particular talents with this sort of thing, yes?” He barely registered the urge to roll his eyes at her. “And, frankly, even if it is the damn coins, there’s a bigger issue to worry about. Teddy was never meant to stay there this long.”

“You said he needed more time, what of it?”

She looked at him properly then – her face an open book of uncertainty, fear, regret – and muttered: “Tonight’s a full moon.”

**

The next twenty minutes were a blur of activity. After trying a number of diagnostic spells on Rose’s galleon, with her chuntering at him throughout – “This is wasting time!” and “Do you honestly think I haven’t tried that one, already, Malfoy?” – he had to admit the coin still appeared fully functional. Which made it all the more likely that Lupin wasn’t, in some way.

It had been worth a shot – Occam’s razor, and all that – but once his simple theory had been disproved, all thoughts immediately turned to the rescue mission that Rose was anxious to embark upon.

She point-blank refused to involve her uncle, which Scorpius found utterly idiotic (and told her as much), given that the man had an entire Auror department at his disposal and the various resources that came with his position as Head of the DMLE. She had vehemently protested though, citing promises she had made to Lupin and the red-tape that would surely deter them should the Ministry be notified, before declaring she would go alone if he weren’t willing to drop the matter.

And Scorpius certainly wasn’t about to let that happen, for reasons far more obvious to him than he would have liked.

The first issue had been how to get there and, once again, Scorpius found himself wondering if he should nominate Adrian Creevey for an Order of Merlin. The man had barely even paused for thought when Scorpius had made the late night Floo-call, his head barging into the other man’s living room and demanding he acquire them an off-the-books, international Portkey as a matter of urgency.

With very little questioning – which Scorpius suspected had to do with plausible deniability – Creevey had promised to do what he could and instructed them to be ready to leave within the hour.

“A Portkey will only get us as close as Vielha town,” Rose had protested. “It took Teddy another two days to hike to the lake, what with having to adjust to the altitude, and we don’t have the time -,”

“Bubble head charm,” Scorpius had shut her down, decisively.

“What?”

“We’re going to take the Portkey to Vielha and then apparate to the Lac de Rius. The Bubble head charm should provide us with a stable oxygen supply, so climbing the altitude so quickly shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Right,” she blinked. “That’s, er, that’s brilliant.”

He couldn’t resist a small, self-satisfied smirk, even given the pressing urgency of the situation. “For all of my faults, I was never stupid, remember?”

Rose had the good grace to blush and turned away to start immediately practicing said charm.

Scorpius had set about collecting up useful items. He already had a bag prepared for lengthy stake-outs and added to its contents a medi-witch first aid kit, two separate vials of dittany, and the atlas from the Manor in which he’d first identified the lake and its island. It would be useful to have an idea of the layout of the area, even if it weren’t the most portable tome, he reasoned – thank Merlin for Undetectable Extension charms. He slung the bag on his desk and listened to everything jostle alongside the bottles of water, food and a change of clothes he always kept packed and ready.

Then, there was nothing to do but wait.

He perched himself on the desk, eyes periodically glancing between the window, checking for Creevey’s owl, and Rose, who was busy rattling through potentially useful spells. He’d just watched her perform the Four-Point spell for the third time when she looked up and caught him staring.

Their eyes met and, in the sudden quiet of the room, Scorpius could almost hear the cogs turning over in her mind.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, plainly, her wand still spinning in her palm. “We both know I don’t deserve it.”

He frowned; the question seemed absurd. Since the moment she’d appeared out of the fireplace, there’d been next to no doubt in his mind that he would assist her with whatever she’d asked. Now that he thought about it, perhaps he was the absurd one.

He cleared his throat, “I suspect, for the same reason that you came here to ask for my help in the first place.”

Scorpius watched her brow furrow, evidently not satisfied with such an answer. He turned away, tracing a long finger over the galleon that Dominique had acquired for him, sat forgotten on his desk.

“You know,” he muttered, “I was surprised when I found out that you and Lupin were so close. I didn’t recall you being in each other’s confidence when we were…” he bit the inside of his cheek, “…when we were younger.”

Her wand immediately stopped spinning, pointing due North until she clenched her fist around it. “No, I don’t suppose we were.”

“Can I ask why? What happened, I mean, to bring the two of you so close together?” his eyes slid back to hers. He knew the answer, of course – or at least thought he did – having put together a vague timeline after speaking to her cousins. For some reason he wanted to hear it from her.

She seemed somewhat reticent to comply, however.

“I -,” she grimaced and looked away. A few deep purple sparks emitted from the tip of her wand, which she seemed not to notice. “I wasn’t really myself, for a while. Teddy was really good to me. He was just there without asking why.”

Scorpius mulled this over. “Did you ever tell him why?” He was interested from a mostly selfish standpoint. Not that he really thought for a moment that she would have told Lupin about him, about them, about the fact that they’d been secretly devoted to one another for almost two -

“I did. He knows all about us.”

Scorpius stared, the hair on the back of his neck prickling to attention, as his sharp grey eyes met her clouded blues. Before he could press her for more, however, a light tapping at the window alerted them that Creevey had come through. Rose stepped forward to open the window, letting the small barn owl in from the cold, and swiftly detached the bulky envelope tied to its leg which she passed to Scorpius. Inside were two small stones: one with a cross carved into the centre, the other with a circle. Scorpius recognised them as a new type of experimental Portkey, ones that could be carried on the traveller’s person until time for activation. He quickly scanned the accompanying note:

_X to get you there, O to get you back. You’ll have one hour. X activates at 19:20._

Glancing up at the clock, he swiftly shouldered his rucksack, slipping the stone with the circle carving into his trouser pocket alongside his wand.

He stole a glance out the window. Sure enough, a full moon shone back at him, already resting low in the sky. Either Lupin had managed to hold his own on a werewolf inhabited island for the last few hours, or he was already dead (or bitten) and this entire trip was a fool’s errand. Rose appeared to be having a similar thought, having followed his gaze out into the dark skies, and was now worrying her bottom lip excessively.

Without another word, Scorpius picked up the stone with the X carving and held out his hand towards her. She glanced at the Portkey held aloft in his palm, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze uncertainly, before she clasped her hand over his – just as the stone began to glow a vivid blue.

**

_Scorpius sat in the quiet of the Manor library. Alone._

_His eyes kept drifting to the empty chair across from him, to the tray of decanters and glasses that would now sit forever untouched of an evening. It felt different in here, without him. Almost as if Scorpius were trespassing, no longer welcome by the books they’d once read together or the fire they used to sit beside._

_He shifted, pulling at the over-starched collar of his dark dress robes. Today was going to be one of the worst days of his life. He hated funerals regardless, but when it was his own father’s…_

_Something beneath his rib cage clenched tightly and, for a moment, Scorpius felt like he couldn’t breathe. How can it be, he wondered, that someone so meaningful, so complex and solid, can be there one moment and simply gone the next?_

_Releasing his growing inner tension with a shaky sigh, he let his head fall into his hands. Today was not the day to let emotions get the best of him. Today was nothing more than a carefully crafted show and his mother needed him to put on his best performance. They could grieve in private once all was done and dusted. His one reprieve was that Rose had finally agreed to attend. She had been reluctant; she knew there would be journalists there and she’d been anxious about the two of them being photographed together. He supposed she’d seen how much it meant to him though, how much he needed her there, because she’d eventually acquiesced._

_He was headed to his mother’s chambers when the House Elf found him. A letter had arrived that morning by owl, addressed to him. Scorpius read the hastily scribbled note with dull, emotionless eyes:_

I’m sorry. I can’t. Please forgive me – Rose.

**

The streets of Vielha were all but deserted.

A few windows glowed from behind closed curtains, the rumble of a car engine sounded in the distance, and the late autumn winds rolled through the valley, making Scorpius pull his jacket more tightly around him and tossing Rose’s hair from her shoulders. The Portkey had deposited them in what looked to be a town square, the edges of which were lined with small shops, a café, a clock tower – all of which appeared closed up for the season. Scorpius peered up at the silhouette of the mountains, miles above them like a theatrical back drop, the hint of snow at their peaks glinting in the moonlight. He imagined the views were spectacular in the light of day.

When he looked down, he found Rose had already cast the Bubble head charm on herself; her face slightly distorted within the protective pocket of air. He quickly replicated the charm and took her hand again, swiftly apparating them to the location of Lac de Rius based on his knowledge of the area from the map.

Their feet landed amongst soft grass. Giving himself a moment to adjust, Scorpius stared out over the expanse of water – a black mass, with flecks of crystal where the ripples caught in the moonlight. They were hemmed in by the mountains now, veering off into the sky on either side of them, as if channelling them towards the lake. He could barely make out the island in its centre in the darkness, but there was a shadowy mass, perhaps half a kilometre away, that he assumed to be it.

At this altitude, the air would be thin. Although Scorpius could feel something – a slight, additional pressure on his lungs – his breathing came easy thanks to the Bubble head charm. He turned to Rose and grinned, his pleasure in a plan come to fruition momentarily overcoming his trepidation about what lay ahead.

Rose, it seemed, was feeling equally exhilarated, as she returned his smile and squeezed the hand she still held in her grasp. It sent a jolt of something through him.

“One hour, did it say?” she asked, her voice slightly muffled by the charm, almost as if she were underwater. Scorpius nodded, head turning back to the island, seemingly floating in the middle of the water. “Then we’d better keep moving.”

This time, Scorpius felt the unpleasant tug on his innards more keenly as she side-along apparated them both into the centre of the lake. Rather than grass, the crunch of fallen leaves and twigs announced their arrival on the shore of the forested island, and he felt Rose stumble on uneven ground beside him. The lake now lapped softly against muddy banks just behind them and, ahead, the dense wall of trees felt like both a shield and a black hole, waiting to suck them both in. The wind rustled lightly through the branches above but, otherwise, the crack of their apparition had cut through relative silence.

There was a flurry of wings and leaves overhead and both of their wands were out in an instant. The silhouette of a bird glided away into the night sky and they looked at each other – Scorpius noticed her cheeks were flushed, whilst his chest was heaving – and swallowed, nervously. 

The island was approximately three-hundred-foot-wide from what he remembered of the map. Although that didn’t seem like a large amount of ground to cover, the task became exponentially more difficult when you accounted for the fact that, somewhere amongst the trees, was a pack of free-roaming werewolves. It was just dawning on Scorpius that they hadn’t really thought past the challenge of actually getting here when Rose started towards the tree line with purpose.

She was a good few foot away when she realised he had yet to move.

“The settlement is right in the middle of the island,” she frowned. “I don’t like the idea of walking into a werewolf den any more than you, but I don’t see what other choice we have. At least we’re going in armed.”

Scorpius grimaced but had to admit she was right. Short of staying put and hoping that Lupin just stumbled out of the forest in front of them, he didn’t have an alternative plan.

Without the eery light of the moon, the inside of the tree line was like walking into thick, black velvet. Scorpius could barely see more than half a foot in front of him. The sounds of the rustling branches and snuffling coming from the undergrowth seemed to grow louder around them, as his hearing tried to make up for the loss of his most important sense. 

“ _Lumos_ ,” he heard Rose whisper, and the small patch of foliage around them was cast into light. He instantly moved as if to cover her wand – not wanting to draw attention to themselves in the otherwise darkness – but she jerked it out of his reach. “We’re no use at all to Teddy if we trip and break our necks on a tree root,” she snapped, and again, Scorpius had to reluctantly agree.

He was beginning to see why most of history’s great adventures were left up to the Gryffindors. 

They began to move further into the dense trees, picking their way carefully in the pale light of Rose’s wand; the low hanging branches occasionally snagging on their coats, their groping hands, and tangling in Rose’s hair. She kept her wand low, illuminating little more than the ground they were trying to walk on. Scorpius kept his eyes firmly glued to the upcoming darkness, looking for subtle shifts of movement or the flash of teeth that might suggest they were no longer alone.

He was vaguely aware of their quickly receding time until the return Portkey activated. If he had to guess, they’d already been walking for roughly twenty minutes – it was slow going through the dense undergrowth – which meant they had less than half of their time left. He suddenly felt rather amateurish for not bringing a watch.

Rose stilled beside him and abruptly snuffed out her wand light. He felt her small hand searching for his in the darkness and she gripped it tightly, pulling him down alongside her till they were crouched amidst the ferns.

“Look,” she whispered, pointing through a gap in the trees to her right where Scorpius could make out a small clearing. There was also a makeshift tent strung up between the thick trunks. His eyes fell on the large, jagged slash that something had made along one side of the muddied fabric and he felt Rose cling to his hand even tighter.

“Come on,” he inched forward, tugging her alongside him.

Pausing just at the edge of the clearing, Scorpius cast a quick _Homenum revelio_ , coming up empty. No sign of Lupin. He then fired off every diagnostic revealing spell he could think of, just to be on the safe side – none of which he was confident would detect a werewolf lurking within the damaged tent or elsewhere within the little camp’s periphery, though he thought he might as well try.

He glanced at Rose, who gave him a look that was far from reassuring, before leading the way into the relative open. Scorpius kept his wand trained on the tree line, following behind her as she hurried over to the tent.

“Teddy’s not here, but it is… _was_ his tent,” she muttered, quickly. “All of his things are still here, although no sign of a wand.”

That was something, thought Scorpius. Whatever had attacked Lupin’s campsite and chased him off into the woods, at least he was most likely armed.

“We shouldn’t stay here, we’re too exposed -,” he started, words coming to a halt as something caught his eye darting through the trees to the left of the clearing. His grip on his wand tightened and he signalled at Rose to keep still, which of course she ignored, spinning on her heel to stare off in the same direction. He peered through the dark foliage; there was definitely something out there, something moving quickly and large enough to shake the branches at shoulder height, but he couldn’t make it out. Then, suddenly, he lost sight of it.

_Fuck_.

His eyes swept the tree line, wand moving with them. Whatever it was, was now close enough that he could hear it crashing through the brush underfoot. He could hear leaves shaking, the snap of twigs and the crunch of stones and dirt. His heart racing, he braced himself for an incoming attack, only noticing at the last second that Rose already had her wand trained on something as it came hurtling out of the trees.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

Lunging forward, Scorpius caught Rose’s elbow, knocking her arm so that her spell fired off into the branches with a resounding crack. She yelled in surprise, and shot him an enraged, confused glare before readying her wand to fire again, the incantation dying in her throat when she got a good look at the intruder.

“Sweet Merlin, that almost took my legs right out from under me!” came a surprisingly cheerful voice for a man who’d just been unceremoniously hexed at. “Wotcher, Rosie!” Golden eyes swung round the clearing, landing on Scorpius and widening inscrutably. “Malfoy? What in the name of Godric’s knackers are you doing here?” 

Rose gasped, running full pelt to throw her arms round the muddy neck of the newcomer. “Teddy! Oh, thank Merlin!”

Pulse pounding in his ears, Scorpius critically surveyed the other man. For the last week, his thoughts had been entirely occupied by Teddy Lupin (that’s if you discounted the constant and unhelpful stream of thoughts about the red-head he was currently embracing). Now, here he was in the flesh – alive and… not entirely well, Scorpius noticed. His turquoise hair was mussed and dishevelled, a sticky, red smear dribbling from his temple. His left arm was hanging awkwardly by his side at a nauseating angle. There were scratches over most of his forearms, most likely from the trees, and a large gash through the front of his t-shirt that was definitely not the work of an errant branch.

Grabbing the rucksack from his shoulder, Scorpius began rummaging for one of the bottles of dittany, catching snippets of the low, murmured conversation now happening a few feet away from him. 

“What were you thinking -,”

“…stopped responding… didn’t know what else -,”

“Lost the bloody thing, didn’t I?... And with Malfoy… Rosie, are you sure that was a good idea?”

Scorpius made a noisy show of fastening his bag and strode over to the pair of them. “Here,” he held out the small vial to Lupin, gesturing at the torn fabric across his chest. “Did it break the skin?”

Even in the dark, he could see the other man’s face turn a concerning shade of grey. “I-… I’m not sure, haven’t properly examined it yet,” Teddy admitted.

“Well, I can’t see any blood, so maybe…” Scorpius shrugged as he locked eyes with an intense golden stare. That level of optimism didn’t really suit their current situation, but the alternative didn’t really bear thinking about. “We need to get out of here.”

Teddy gestured to the bubbles still shimmering around their heads, “Good thinking with the charms, by the way,” then glanced between them, hopefully. “I take it the two of you have an exit strategy?”

Scorpius nodded brusquely, “Return Portkey should activate in about twenty minutes. But we shouldn’t stay here until then.”

Teddy nodded his agreement but winced at his left shoulder. “I’m fairly sure it’s only dislocated but I can’t re-set it myself. That’s what stopped me from apparating out of here at the first sign of trouble, the bloody thing’ll probably get splinched right off if I tried it, even worse with side-alongs. I’d say our best bet is to head back to the outer perimeter, wait for the Portkey to activate there. The pack tends to hunt closer to their settlement in the centre of the island.”

Ignoring the stab of fear at Lupin’s use of the word ‘hunt’, Scorpius exchanged a look with Rose – it was clear neither of them knew the first thing about re-setting a limb, nor were they about to argue with the Healer amongst them. Instead, they quickly set off back the way they had come. There was an awkward moment as both men held out their hand for Rose to take; luckily, she didn’t notice either and strode off towards the tree line, but Teddy gave Scorpius an interested once-over before following after her.

Making up the rear, Scorpius kept his head low and his wand at the ready. Rose was attempting to lead them back the way they hand come, using the path they had already cut through the forest to speed up the journey. He was conscious of the slight weight of the Portkey in his pocket – he wasn’t sure how long it would remain active once it started to glow and the last thing he wanted was to miss their only opportunity to get off this damned island without Lupin ripping his arm off.

In truth, he hadn’t been convinced that they would even manage to find him – not that he would have said this to Rose – and their plan’s success so far had been rather surprising. They were almost halfway back to the narrow shoreline, moving much quicker now they knew the lay of the land, and Scorpius allowed himself to feel a thrill of excitement at the thought that they might actually have pulled this off.

No sooner had this thought occurred to him, however, when they heard a noise that made Scorpius’ blood run cold. An unmistakable howl cut through the darkness; loud and dangerously close. His head swivelled in the direction it came from but there was nothing to see but leaves and black. Then came another one, from somewhere uncomfortably close behind them.

“They must have caught our scent,” Teddy was hissing, crouching low, “they’re trying to flank us.”

“What do we do?” Scorpius heard Rose’s voice tremble, somewhere ahead of him in the dark. It made his stomach clench, nauseatingly.

“We run.”

Scorpius was suddenly aware that his legs were moving of their own accord, scrambling through the undergrowth, carrying him as fast as they were able towards the faint light ahead that signalled the tree line and the shore beyond. Teddy’s mop of turquoise hair bobbed in front of him, moving remarkably fast for a man with a dislocated arm, and Scorpius nearly tripped over his own feet at the sound of a snarl at his heels.

Without stopping to glance behind, he fired a curse over his shoulder:

“ _Reducto!_ ”

There was a crack of branches and tree bark where his spell landed, but the creature behind him had not been deterred. He could practically feel the heavy tread of paws quickly encroaching. Taking a chance, he spun on his heel, briefly catching sight of dark, matted fur and yellow eyes as he aimed his wand.

“ _Incarcerous!_ ”

The creature fell back as earthy vines grabbed at its hind legs, wrapping themselves tightly around it’s torso and jerking it to the ground. Heart in his mouth, Scorpius kept running, leaping over a low hanging branch to catch up with the others.

He daren’t fish the stone Portkey out of his pocket, not while they were moving, for fear of losing it in the heavy undergrowth – but it had to be almost time, _surely_?

Gasping for breath, even with the Bubble head charm still in place, Scorpius followed the other two out of the tree line. His chest heaved, sweat trickled down his forehead as he splashed into the first few feet of shallow water. He knew, of course, that being out of the forest didn’t necessarily offer them any protection, but at least here, in the open, they could see what was coming for them.

He plunged a hand into his pocket, fingers grasping around the small stone with the circle carved at its centre and swore, loudly. It wasn’t glowing. It wasn’t active. Not yet.

He looked up at the dark hole in the branches they had just emerged from. Nothing had followed them through, for now. But there had been at least two, hadn’t there? The one behind him which he’d temporarily deterred and another coming up on their left. He glanced along the shore, eyes searching for Rose in the darkness. She was a few feet away to his left, red curls shining in the welcome light of the moon, her expression dripping with fear.

He made to head towards her, to get to her, but no sooner had he taken a step then a large, dark mass came bursting out of the tree line directly in front of her. Scorpius heard Teddy yelling from somewhere behind him, watched as Rose stumbled backwards, just out of reach of the swing of the creature’s claws. Scorpius watched in horror as it snarled at her, all hot breath and dripping teeth, rearing up on its hind legs to strike at her again. 

His wand was up before he was even consciously aware of it: “ _Expulso!”_

The curse swept across the ground with frightening speed. It knocked the werewolf clean off its back legs, sending it hurtling into the nearest tree which was physically ripped from the ground, roots upturning, by the force of the impact. The creature let out a snarl of pain and lay limp on its side, its body broken.

Scorpius was briefly stunned – that might have been the most powerful bit of magic he had ever performed, but now really wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Another blood-curdling howl reverberate from within the trees, just as the stone in his palm began to pulse blue. He sprinted towards Rose, hauling her up from the mud, one arm gripping her waist for dear life, as Teddy came panting to a halt beside them. Scorpius held onto Rose tightly, as she appeared to be in a mild state of shock, and held out his hand containing the Portkey. Then, catching a final glimpse of something tearing through the leaves towards them, he felt Teddy’s hand clamp down over his and the entire scene was whipped away in a rush of air and darkness.

**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello! I am indeed alive - many thanks to those who checked in. I am super sorry about the unexpected wait for this chapter, long story short I work in the medical field and things are a little crazy and unpredictable right now, you may have noticed. Anyway, at long last, here is our final chapter.
> 
> I want to say a huge thanks to those who've read, commented, bookmarked etc! This story has been a little bit of a pet project for me, with various bits sitting in my hard drive for years without ever quite making it into a full story, so to be able to say it's complete is a little miracle.
> 
> Warnings: SMUT. I told ya we'd get there eventually, folks.

St Mungo’s had the same sickly, overly-sterile smell to it that he remembered.

This wasn’t the same ward, Scorpius knew that, but the rooms and the corridors looked identical.

The experimental Portkey had deposited them back in his office almost an hour ago, each of them collapsing onto the worn plaid carpet in a mixture of relief, shock and – in Lupin’s case – pain, before Scorpius had dragged the others through the Floo, spilling out in all their bloodied, muddy glory in front of an unimpressed Welcome Witch in the hospital lobby. They’d been taken straight up to the First Floor, to the ‘Dangerous’ Dai Llewelyn Ward, so that Lupin could have his wounds thoroughly assessed.

Scorpius’ father had passed away in a side room on the Third Floor, of a heart attack. A muggle malady that was something of a rarity in the wizarding world. By the time they’d contacted the relevant specialists it was too late for Draco Malfoy. So, although he knew this wasn’t the same room, or even the same floor for that matter, being here still conjured in Scorpius a distinctly unpleasant sense of unease.

Tearing his gaze away from the gut-wrenchingly familiar wallpaper, he turned to study the patient perched on the end of the hospital cot. He’d insisted on Rose being admitted for assessment whilst the Healers worked on Lupin – hopefully putting that god-awful, flaccid limb back into its rightful socket for starters – and he had also insisted on staying with her. He watched intently as the medi-witch ran various diagnostic spells until she was finally satisfied there was nothing physically wrong with her charge. 

Scorpius let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, releasing his grip on the hospital-standard sink as Rose listened patiently to the medi-witch’s prattle about the value of a good night’s rest and accepted the proffered Pepper-Up potion.

“I told you I was fine,” she looked up at him after the other witch had left them alone. Scorpius thought he could detect the faintest hint of a blush, although that might have been the after effects of the potion she’d just swallowed. The slight tremble of her hands was definitely new, though. “We should go check on Teddy -,”

“Victoire’s here,” he said, quietly. “I suspect they’ve got rather a lot to talk about.”

“How does she know we’re here?”

“I owled her, whilst they were checking you for scratches,” it was his turn to feel the warmth dab his cheeks.

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, of course, but he’d slipped out of the room as the medi-witch had helped to undress her. She now wore a pale-yellow hospital gown that did nothing for her complexion and dwarfed her thin frame. Scorpius found he still couldn’t take his eyes off her, though.

“I took the liberty of contacting your uncle… your parents, too. They should be here soon.”

She grimaced, “That means the entire calvary’s on its way. Word travels fast in this family.”

Scorpius arched an eyebrow in surprise. During the historical distancing of him from any other aspect of her life, Rose had never liked to discuss her family around him, never even brought them up casually or in conversation. He brushed it off, it was probably a slip of the tongue, maybe she was still in a slight state of shock, or else perhaps the Pepper-Up potion was a touch on the strong side.

“I suppose you told Vic that I was involved,” Rose pulled at a loose thread on the starched bed sheets.

Scorpius sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he grimaced at the floor. “Actually, I told her you’d helped me track him down. I forgot to mention the part about you knowing where he was all along, or that you were the one to send him there in the first place,” he offered her the barest of grins. “Guess it must have slipped my mind. I can’t promise Lupin hasn’t implicated you, however.”

Rose stared at him. “Thank you.”

Scorpius merely shrugged.

“No, I mean it. And not just for saving me from the wrath of Victoire,” she smiled faintly. “I half expected you to kick me back into the Floo when I came to your office last night, maybe even stupefy me and hand me over to Uncle Harry,” she let out a dark chuckle; Scorpius frowned at the idea. “But instead you agreed to travel hundreds of miles to a werewolf infested island with me, probably breaking about sixty international wizarding laws in the process, and quite literally saved my life…and I still don’t really understand why.”

Scorpius folded his arms loosely across his chest and avoided her gaze. “Well, I’ve always had something of a weak stomach and the idea of watching you have your guts ripped out by a werewolf didn’t particularly appeal, so -,”

“Charming,” she cut in with a roll of her eyes, “and you know what I meant.”

He sighed, tiredly; of course he knew what she meant. It was the same question she had asked him as they waited for the first Portkey and he’d known the answer even then, although he’d been just about delusional enough to try and deny it. But then he’d watched a fully transformed werewolf rearing up on its hind legs above her, snarling down at her and swinging its claws to tear at her throat, and he hadn’t been able to deny it anymore. He was in love with her, still. It went against every one of his self-preservation instincts, his infallible sense of logic and his simple good sense, but he was. It was entrenched in him; he’d realised in that moment on the shoreline and in every moment since, he loved her despite everything that had transpired between them.

But he wasn’t going to tell her any of that. How could he? And, more importantly, what would be the point? His pride was still hurt, as were his feelings and, honestly, he didn’t know if he could survive another round of Rose Weasley’s special blend of isolated intimacy. Not that it stopped him wanting her, however. He supposed he must have something of a masochistic streak.

Rose’s self-conscious shuffling distracted him and he snapped his gaze back to the hospital cot. She was worrying her lower lip, eyes still on him, wide and enquiring.

“Let’s just chalk it up to professional instincts and leave it at that, shall we?” he answered at last, and watched as her face fell.

“Right,” she dropped her gaze to her hands fidgeting in her lap. “Well, it seems as though Victoire hired the right man for the job, after all.”

There was an edge to her voice but not an unkind one, almost as if she were trying to stop it from breaking. And suddenly, the air felt thin around them, full of static and something else… something Scorpius couldn’t put a name to, but that he could feel tightening around his throat. He looked at her, waited as she lifted her gaze to meet his once again. Staring into those glassy blue eyes, it was easy to imagine they were seventeen again in the Room of Requirement, or alone in her little flat having breakfast. The small bubble of happiness they had once shared felt so tangible in that moment, as if it would be the simplest thing in the world to reach out and reclaim it.

And so, he did.

They moved at the same time, truth be told – Scorpius pushing away from his post by the sink as Rose scrambled up from the hospital cot, their arms reaching out to snare each other. Scorpius’ hands sank into her hair; hers gripped at the front of his tattered, muddy robes, and every other thought in his head – the realisation of how very tired he was, how every one of his muscles ached, how _this_ was a terribly bad idea – was instantly silenced as their lips met.

He let out a shuddering sigh at the familiar feel of her soft mouth on his. _Gods_ , how he’d missed this, missed her.

Needing to feel more of her, he pulled her against him, his fingers brushing over the folds of her starched hospital gown as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Rose relaxed into him, letting out a sigh of her own as if a weight of tension had been given an outlet at last, even as her tongue teased against his lips and made Scorpius’ breath catch in his throat. He clutched her to him, allowing himself to hungrily explore the warm, wet cavern of her mouth – to lose himself in the familiar sensations. She tasted like he remembered with a hint of spice from the Pepper-Up potion, her skin warm and soft as he brushed a hand under her jaw. Her curls tickled his cheek as he backed her towards the wall and he noticed, idly, that she still used the same lavender scented shampoo.

Rose’s hands slid into his hair, her mouth still working over his, trying to get more of whatever it was she needed and Scorpius was swept away by how very much he wanted her. His hardness was already pressing uncomfortably against the front of his robes and he’d barely even touched her, yet. He tried to steady his breathing, tried to exercise some level of control, even as his hands sought out the parting of her hospital gown and slid over the exposed skin they found there.

Rose stiffened and gasped at the sensation of his cool fingers against her burning skin. The sound made Scorpius pause and he tilted his head back to look at her, noting her red and swollen lips and wondering if his were equally bruised. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks flushed, and he felt a surge of feeling below both his ribs and his belt.

“Scorpius…” she muttered, breathlessly, her gaze dropping back to his lips and voice palpable with need. “I-…I miss you.”

He felt something intangible in his chest twist and break apart. And, as he felt her shiver expectantly beneath him, her hips rolling lightly against his, he struggled to imagine anything in the world that could stop him reclaiming her entirely, right now and right here in the middle of a bloody hospital examination room.

Except, maybe, the Golden _Fucking_ Trio.

A growing rumble of noise outside the door alerted them to the impending intrusion and Scorpius lurched back in alarm, their limbs reluctantly disentangling from one another just in time. 

Ron Weasley led the charge, swinging the door back on its hinges and crossing the length of the room in two of his great strides, seeming almost comically broad in the small space. Then came a mass of hair, as Hermione Granger-Weasley ushered her husband to one side and made a bee-line for her daughter, who remained frozen in surprise next to the hospital cot. Scorpius tore his eyes away from the intimate show of motherly coddling and found himself returning the stoic stare of one Mr Harry Potter, Head of the DMLE. He felt himself flinch backwards, unconsciously, the rim of the sink bumping against his lower spine.

Scorpius wasn’t typically claustrophobic by nature, but being confined within a small examination cubicle with the three saviours of the wizarding world was more than a bit overwhelming. Especially considering that he’d been seconds away from indecently manhandling the only daughter of two of them. With a panicked blush that he felt right down to the tips of his toes, Scorpius cautiously re-adjusted his robes and attempted to smooth his hair back into place. If anyone noticed that the pair of them were breathing rather heavily, it mercifully went unmentioned.

“Oh my goodness, Rose! What on Earth were you thinking?” Minister Granger-Weasley was chiding her grown daughter with the same tone of voice that one might use on a child who’d just landed herself detention. Rose, for her part, appeared to have been rendered speechless, and was enduring her mother’s fussing hands as they checked each limb and curl on her head for damage. “You could have been killed, or bitten, or – heaven forbid – arrested!”

Scorpius caught Mr Potter’s stifled grin from the corner of his eye and wondered what on Earth he found so amusing.

Mr Weasley was giving his daughter equal, unadulterated attention – albeit in the form of a concerned, stony stare – when he finally seemed to notice that Scorpius was also in the room. He did something of a double take: gaze snapping from Scorpius’ face to his white-blond hair and back again, almost as if he’d seen a ghost, and making Scorpius feel as if the temperature in the room had rocketed by about a thousand degrees.

“Mr Malfoy, if I might have a quick word?” Mr Potter mercifully interrupted, offering a guarded smile, which Scorpius supposed was meant to seem friendly, and gestured towards the hallway.

Scorpius followed him out, throwing a quick glance in Rose’s direction to find her staring back at him, her expression unreadable.

Outside of the small room, Scorpius allowed himself to breathe normally again. He began to realise just how wired he was – both from their narrow escape from the Lac de Rius, and the last five minutes alone with Rose. He ran a hand through his hair, then grimaced at the streaks of dirt he’d most likely left on his forehead.

Turning, he found a pair of inquisitive, steady green eyes levelled on him, and he swallowed nervously.

“It seems…” Harry paused as a young Healer scurried passed in a flurry of lime green robes, “…that I find myself in debt to you, Mr Malfoy. From my understanding of tonight’s events, you saved the life of both my godson and my niece and, for that, I will never be able to thank you enough.”

Scorpius stared. Whatever he had expected from Harry Potter – Boy-Who-Lived turned Chosen One, not to mention the most respected Head of the DMLE since Amelia Bones had been in office – it had not been that. An interrogation, perhaps, or even a bollocking for running into a forest full of werewolves like a reckless, moronic vigilante, but not… _praise_. Not by a long stretch.

When it became clear that Scorpius was somewhat lost for words, Harry continued: “I thought you might be interested to know that we’ll be sending a team to the Lac de Rius at dawn. Teddy tells me there may be some individuals there in need of medical assistance, thanks to your rather impressive spell work. Not that there’ll be any charges brought against you, of course – self defence against a transformed adult werewolf is more than understandable and, actually, rather impressive.”

Scorpius frowned slightly. In all honesty, he couldn’t give a damn about the creature he had sent hurling into a tree; the image of it bearing down on Rose and ready to strike would be seared into his retinas till the day he died. But then, he supposed, this particular werewolf community had put itself out there on that godforsaken island intentionally – to be out of reach and out of harm’s way – and they had been the ones to go trespassing where they had no business being.

“I suspect one has rather significant injuries,” Scorpius muttered, grimacing at the memory. “You’ll find them on the shoreline to the North side of the island.”

Harry nodded. “All three of you will have to come in and give a formal statement, of course. But I see no need to rush things until you’ve had suitable time to rest and recuperate,” … _and get your stories straight,_ he gave Scorpius a look rather heavy with meaning.

“Understood, sir.”

Harry turned back towards the side room with a parting nod and Scorpius assumed that was a rather courteous way of telling him to piss off and leave his family alone, but the older man paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“One more thing, Mr Malfoy, if you ever get tired of freelancing, we could certainly use someone with your talents in the Auror squad. I suspect a man of your skills and experience would make it through training in record time. Don’t hesitate to get in touch.”

He plucked a small card from the inside of his robes, handing it to Scorpius with a wry smile.

Scorpius stared down at the simple black font, informing him of the business address of Harry Potter: Head of the DMLE, member of the Wizengamot and Order of Merlin, First Class. He blinked, mouth open and closing and once again at a loss for words, but it didn’t matter – Harry had already disappeared back inside the examination room without a backward glance.

Now that was unexpected.

Head reeling, Scorpius stared after him, at the closed door of Rose’s hospital room. A part of him wanted to follow Harry back inside, to stay with Rose and maybe see if she’d care to expand on what exactly she meant by ‘I miss you’. But the thought of wading in there and having to explain himself to the likes of Ron Weasley, no less, was enough to keep him rooted in the hallway.

“Out of the way please,” barked a stern looking Healer, as he and three medi-witches rushed past with a patient on a stretcher. Scorpius caught sight of a set of fang marks and a puddle of blood collecting around the man’s neck and grimaced. He’d had enough of creature attacks for one evening – time to get out of here.

He really did hate hospitals.

******

After Flooing back to the office, Scorpius had wasted no time shucking off his robes and muddied boots and collapsing, face first, onto the tatty sofa. The adrenaline from their night time escapades had finally worn off and he could already feel the aches and bruises he was sure to suffer from tomorrow. He eventually awoke again at around noon, he would guess, with the sun high in the early autumn sky and glaring through the grimy window. He groaned into his makeshift pillow, stiff and sore, and took a dizzying few minutes to recollect that: _no_ , running from werewolves and Portkeying across Europe with Rose had not been part of a particularly vivid dream.

Reaching for his discarded robes, he pulled the card that Harry had given him from the inside pocket, turning it over between his fingers and ruminating on the offer. It was certainly tempting and rather hard to disregard when the Head of the DMLE personally headhunts you. But Scorpius had always enjoyed the autonomy of working on his own, choosing which cases he took and which he turned down. Was the potential for job stability, a regular salary and dependable work colleagues enough to relinquish that?

He wondered, fancifully, what Rose would think. After all those years spent doggedly keeping him apart from her family, now her uncle was the one inviting him in. There was something ironic in it all that appealed to his darker humours, although he doubted she’d see it that way.

He allowed his thoughts to drift back to St Mungo’s, to the feel of her beneath him, her body flush against his. The dip of her waist and heat of her skin, and how eagerly she’d responded to him, arching into his touch. She had wanted him, almost as much as he had wanted her. Then again, he thought ruefully, adrenaline did all sorts of funny things to the human nervous system.

He’d been a fool to think he could see her again – talk to her, even – and not re-open old wounds. Kissing her though…that was pretty fucking colossal as far as bad decisions went. Now he’d never be able to get her out of his head and he had no way of knowing how she felt about any of it.

With a grimace, Scorpius clambered to his feet and headed for the bottle of Ogden’s hidden on the bookshelf. He wasn’t usually the type to drink away an entire afternoon, but he felt recent events warranted a little transgression. He quickly swallowed down a neat measure and was just pouring a second glass that he intended to nurse for a while when the roar of the Floo took him by surprise.

He turned and stared. Rose stared back at him.

Gone was the hospital gown; instead, she wore a simple blue dress that fell just above bare knees. Unlike him, she’d obviously had the presence of mind to take a shower – her hair looked fresh and there was a distinct lack of mud all up her shins. She stepped out of the fireplace and offered him a half-smile laced with uncertainty.

“They let you out, I take it?” he muttered after a moment of uncomfortable staring. It was odd, but whenever Rose was in his general vicinity, Scorpius seemed to miraculously forget all of his many childhood etiquette lessons.

She simply rolled her eyes at him, however. “Early parole for good behaviour. Actually, I discharged myself – oh, don’t give me that look, I’m perfectly fine,” she huffed at Scorpius’ scowl. “And there was far too much fussing; my mother, that Merlin-awful medi-witch…” she caught sight of the glass in his hand and frowned. “Would it be wishful thinking to hope I’m not a part of whatever’s driven you to drink before noon?”

Scorpius huffed out a laugh and set the bottle back on its shelf. “I suspect you’re always part of the reason I drink, Weasley, regardless of the hour.”

Rose looked at him sharply and he balked at the admission, quickly clearing his throat.

“What, er, what brings you here, anyway? I’d have thought you’d want to be with your family, or Lupin, even? Certainly no need to drag yourself across town to check on me.”

Rose moved a little further into the room, trailing a hand over the back of the sofa, silently noting the rumpled couch cushions. “I thought you might like an update on Teddy, actually. Seeing as how you risked your life to save him, and all.”

“Right,” he muttered, watching her over the rim of his glass and seeing straight through her thinly veiled excuse. “If you say so.”

Rose frowned but didn’t bite. “You’ll be pleased to hear he’s going to be fine, the werewolf scratch didn’t break the skin, thank Merlin. They managed to re-set his arm easily enough too, so other than wearing a rather cumbersome sling for a week or so, it seems he’s escaped unscathed.”

Scorpius arched an eyebrow. “And what about his research? Did he find out what he wanted to know?”

Rose shifted uncomfortably, “He did, but I’m not sure it’s entirely good news. I haven’t had chance to sit down with him properly but it seems that the rumours were partially true, at least. There are instances of the Lycanthropy curse skipping a generation, one of the werewolves on the island confirmed it. They seemed to suggest it was only possible if there were fully transforming werewolves in both parents’ ancestry, however, which would mean the baby isn’t affected… in theory, at least.”

He could see from the twist of her mouth that this wasn’t really enough to allay her concerns and he doubted it would be for Lupin, either. But at least they now had time and a little more information, and the child in question’s father hadn’t had his head ripped off by a werewolf before they’d even had chance to meet.

“Victoire’s going to be having regular check-ups at the Lycanthropy clinic throughout the pregnancy. Hopefully if there’s any sign of… something wrong, it’ll be detected early.” 

Scorpius nodded, solemnly. “I suppose that’s something, at least.”

“They’ve decided to bring the wedding forward, too. Some nonsense about ‘never being apart again’,” she pulled a face and Scorpius grimaced with her – for all of the information he had gathered about Lupin over the last week, he’d apparently failed to realise the man was a complete sap.

“I’ll be sure to raise a glass to the happy couple,” he commented, wryly, earning a conspiratorial chuckle from Rose.

An awkward quiet fell around them then, heavy with unspoken sentiments. Scorpius suddenly felt out of place in his own office and found himself glad of the few feet of distance between them. It helped him keep a more level head and stopped him from giving in to the rather persistent inner voice that seemed to think marching over to her and finishing what they’d started at St Mungo’s might be a good idea. He would guess that Rose was dwelling on something similar, from the way her cheeks suddenly pinked with a phantom blush.

“There… was another reason I came,” she mumbled, perching herself on the edge of his desk and toying with one of his unused quills.

“Oh, yes?”

“I- I wanted to…” Rose seemed to be struggling to tear her gaze away from her shoes. “I wanted to talk. To you.”

Scorpius couldn’t help but find some amusement in her obvious discomfort. “Well, you’re doing a stellar job of that so far. Perhaps a little rusty on the syntax…”

She shot him a sour look, “Stop. I’m nervous enough already.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?”

Rose shuffled awkwardly on the edge of the desk. “ _This._ You. Of having a particularly overdue conversation.”

“Ah,” Scorpius muttered, turning instinctively to refill his glass.

“You know, the polite thing to do would be to offer your guest a drink, too.”

“Agreed. But a guest is usually invited. You seem to have developed a habit of simply turning up here out of the blue.”

Rose rolled her eyes at him. “Two times is hardly a habit.”

Scorpius arched an eyebrow, walking over to pass her a glass, his fingers lingering against hers just a second too long, “Maybe not. But I doubt we could call it a coincidence, either.”

She flushed a little pink at that and sipped at her firewhisky. Scorpius took a perch opposite her on the arm of the sofa, taking care to ensure their knees didn’t touch.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

He tilted his head at her, “You said you wanted to talk.”

“Right,” she muttered. He watched her teeth pull at her bottom lip and noted that her blush was creeping down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her dress. He swallowed thickly and willed himself to keep his gaze on her face.

“I…I wanted to talk about… _us_ ,” she managed, after another moment.

“Yes, I gathered that.”

Rose glanced up at him then, her blue eyes flashing and he returned her glare, coolly. “You’re not making this any easier, you know.”

He shrugged and lifted his glass to his lips, “I don’t see why I should have to.”

“ _‘Don’t see why I should -’_ …Really?” she stared at him, incredulously. “You’re not exactly blameless in all of this, you know? You are aware that you broke my heart over Bianca bloody Nott, yes?”

Scorpius scowled darkly and looked away. It was never pleasant to be confronted with one’s obvious regrets. “And I would have thought, by now, you might have realised that Nott was just an attempt to mend my own, which you’d also done a rather good job at damaging beyond repair.”

Rose glowered, but bit her tongue. Scorpius took another large mouthful of his drink and huffed through his nose.

“You see, Weasley,” he muttered, grey eyes sharp and rueful, “there’s a reason this conversation is so overdue. Until one of us is willing to admit that they were in the wrong, it’s an exercise in futility.”

Rose pressed her lips together and looked down at her lap. She seemed to be watching the faint ripples in the amber pool of her whisky and when she finally spoke, her voice was so quiet that Scorpius would have missed it entirely, if he didn’t already have every nerve cell in his body fixated on her. 

“ _I_ was in the wrong,” she stared at the floor, “I know that now and that’s why I’m here. What I did to you…I mean, the way I treated you when we were together…” her eyes flicked up to meet his for the briefest of seconds. Scorpius felt the tension rolling off of her in waves. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry, for all of it.”

He stared at her in something of a stunned silence. He didn’t really know how to respond or whether she even wanted him to, so he listened to the steady rise and fall of her breathing, to the muted chatter rising from the cauldron shop below, and tried to resist the urge to gloat and ruin the moment.

“I wish I could tell you that I had some clever, noble reason for keeping you – _us_ – a secret, but I’m afraid it’s nothing like that. The short answer is that I was young and selfish and cowardly. But, whilst that’s all very true, somehow I doubt that’ll cut it as an explanation. That is,” she paused and looked up at him, uncertainly, “if you even still care enough to hear me out.”

Scorpius looked at her, taking care to keep his features schooled and impassive. Did he still care? Sweet Circe, that was surely like asking whether he was still partial to breathing oxygen? He’d really thought of very little else in the three years they’d been apart, certainly hadn’t been able to _stop_ caring enough to pursue any other romantic interests in that time. The very question seemed ridiculous to him.

“Go on,” his voice sounded unusually gruff to his own ears.

Rose swallowed nervously but steeled her shoulders, “Well, I suppose it started as simply wanting to avoid the wretched Hogwarts rumour mill. I mean, Merlin, you remember what it was like – people would gossip if two students happened to turn up to Quidditch practice at the same time, never mind the sorts of things we were getting up to,” she blushed faintly at the memory. “Being a Weasley grants you enough notoriety within those castle walls. I didn’t particularly like the idea of people knowing that I’d started spending time in various broom cupboards with one of my fellow classmates.”

Scorpius pressed his mouth into a thin line – he supposed that was fair. News of the students’ latest trysts and conquests used to circulate like Spanish Flu amongst the upper years. Everyone always seemed to know exactly whose hands had been up whose skirts, and which curious young men had been caught in the changing room showers together. Scorpius Malfoy taking Rose Weasley’s virginity in the Prefect’s bathtub would have been the scandalous highlight of the year, had word got out.

Rose cleared her throat, “After we’d graduated and things became more serious, the natural progression would have been to introduce you to my family but that… posed other challenges.”

“Such as?”

Rose pursed her lips and shifted uncomfortably. “Look, you have to understand… my family is not like other families. For one thing, we’re the size of a small army, and that can be intimidating to potential suitors. And if that weren’t enough, being a Weasley or a Potter can make life rather difficult in other ways.”

Scorpius bristled. If she really thought growing up the child of war heroes was taxing, try being the offspring of a member of the losing side.

“Yes,” he drawled before he could stop himself, “I imagine the air can be quite thin up there on the family pedestal.”

He had to will himself not to flinch when her blue eyes shone with fury, delivering him a glare that could easily have taken a year off his life.

“I’m not saying I’m not proud of my parents – of all of my family – because of course I am,” she snapped defensively, “but it means there are certain restrictions placed upon us, certain rules… Because of what they did and who they are, my family will forever be a target – whether for some second-rate journalist trying to make a name for themselves or something far worse. This is something my cousins and I have grown up knowing, something we’ve always been warned about.”

Scorpius scowled and looked away, feeling reprimanded. Paradoxically, he supposed he could understand – no matter what reparations his father had strived to make after the war, growing up as a Malfoy hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing. Having a certain last name still meant something in particular circles.

Rose sighed, crossly, and cast her eyes downward, eyelashes brushing cheekbones. “About ten years ago there was an incident involving my cousin Molly. She’d just turned seventeen at the time and was targeted by a remaining Death Eater cell. Apparently, there are still several pockets of them around the country and none of them are particularly fond of my family, as you might imagine,” she grimaced, ruefully. “They used a younger male member to gain her trust, to _befriend_ her. Long story short: she thought they were falling in love, he was planning to kidnap and torture her for information on the rest of the family – the location of our unplottable homes, how to bypass the cloaking wards, that sort of thing.”

Scorpius stared at her, aghast. Although her tone was flippant, he could see the clench of her jaw that belied her true anger and anxiety.

“Molly was lucky, in a way,” Rose swallowed, thickly. “An Auror raid on another member of the cell revealed the identities of those involved before anything happened to her but, as you can imagine, the entire ordeal left a significant impression.”

“I…” Scorpius frowned, balancing his now empty glass precariously on his knee and feeling unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry. You never said -,”

“No, I didn’t,” she cut him off, offering a bitter smile. “I’m afraid there were rather a lot of things I never told you that I now wish I had. You see, after that, things changed for my cousins and I. Shacklebolt was still Minister at the time and he was a close friend of the family. He convinced my parents, and all my various uncles and aunts, that it would be in our best interests to put more formal protection measures in place for us,” she fidgeted again and bit the inside of her cheek. This was evidently the part she didn’t really want to tell him, Scorpius realised. “Whilst we were still at school and relatively supervised they felt we were safe enough, but anyone that we pursued a public relationship with once we came of age would be legally obliged to undergo thorough background checks, including an interrogation under veritaserum and…and then be prepared to make an Unbreakable Vow that they meant no ill will to our family.”

Scorpius stared at her, dumbly. “ _Merlin_ …that’s…”

“Intense?” Rose quirked an eyebrow in agreement. “My mother was against it at first, called it a violation of our human rights,” she huffed in amusement. “But eventually even she came around when my dad and Uncle Harry told her all the details of Molly’s case.”

Scorpius rose from his perch on the arm of the chair, pacing over to the window and running a hand through his hair as he tried to process everything that she was telling him. He tried to imagine himself at that age, fresh out of Hogwarts and, really, still a child. He’d been in love with Rose even then, but would he have been prepared for any of that? He imagined sitting across from Ron Weasley with a dose of veritaserum in his veins – _Sweet Salazar,_ he’d probably shit himself even now, never mind at seventeen.

“This is when I’d love to be able to claim that by not telling anyone about you, I thought I was protecting you from all of that,” Rose muttered, finishing the rest of her drink and setting the empty glass on the desk beside her. “But the reality is, I was only ever thinking of myself, and what I stood to lose. You must have noticed, none of the rest of my cousins are exactly thriving in their adult relationships. Besides Vic and Teddy, of course,” she cocked her head thoughtfully, “but then, he’s practically been indoctrinated into the family cult since birth. Over the years, I’ve watched countless other suitors scared away by Shacklebolt’s little tests. Roxanne…Dominique…even James, have all lost people they loved because of it.”

She looked up at him then, blue eyes searching grey for some sign of understanding. “I was so very in love with you, you see, that I was too afraid to even give you a chance to refuse.”

At that, Scorpius felt a sudden flare of his temper. Because that was the real problem, wasn’t it? By not telling him any of this, by keeping it all a secret from him and him a secret from everyone else, she’d taken the decision away from him. He couldn’t say for certain that he would have made the right choice, but shouldn’t that have been his mistake to make, too? Her actions spoke loudly of a distinct lack of faith in him.

Rose tore her gaze away from his scowl, as if it pained her to see it. “Like I said, I was young and cowardly. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or even understand my motivations. But when you said the other day that you thought I’d been ashamed of you…” she blinked quickly, her eyes unusually shiny, “I couldn’t stand the idea of you believing that, I knew I had to tell you the truth.”

Scorpius remained by the window, his outline silhouetted against the bright September sun, and cleared his throat, “Only five years too late, it would seem.”

Rose nodded and looked away, swiping at her cheek and the unseen tears. “I almost told you once, actually. When your…when your father died,” she glanced at him, uncertainly.

He felt himself stiffen where he stood but said nothing.

“The day of the funeral, I’d sent that owl – that bloody fucking _stupid_ owl,” she ran a hand over her face, her regret evident in the flush of her cheeks, the tense line of her shoulders. “As soon as I’d sent it, I realised what a total idiot I’d been, how much damage I was causing. I came to the church to be with you and was planning on explaining myself to you afterwards, but then I…well, I saw you with _her_ and -,”

“You came to the funeral?”

Rose looked up at him, an incriminating mascara trail down one cheek, and nodded.

“You never said,” Scorpius was staring at her, slack jawed. His heart had started pounding beneath his ribcage. 

She frowned at him then, “Well, of course I never said anything. By the time I got there, everyone was at the graveside and I saw you with her – with Nott. You were holding her hand, I watched…I watched her stroking your hair, for Rowena’s sake! And then you never came home. I woke up the next morning and all of your things were gone, I assumed you’d decided to be with her, after all.”

He raked a hand through his hair and turned away to stare, unseeing, at the wall whilst he tried to make sense of the ungodly mess that was his life. He couldn’t really articulate it properly, but this new revelation was nothing short of momentous. Yes, their entire relationship had been incredibly, _gravely_ flawed, but the final blow – the lynch pin of all his lingering resentment – had been the fact that she’d let him attend his father’s funeral alone. To find out that she had at least attempted to be there for him left him on emotionally shaky ground.

“I was never with her,” Scorpius muttered, after a moment of strained silence. Rose’s gaze snapped to his, her brow furrowed. “Not before or after. We were friends, I suppose, for a while, but nothing else ever happened between us.”

“But, I saw -,”

“My father was dead, Rose,” he snapped, making her flinch where she sat on the edge of his desk. “And the one person I needed the most had just sent me an owl telling me she couldn’t be fucked to come to the funeral. Forgive me for seeking a little comfort elsewhere,” he rubbed a hand across tired eyes. “I was angry at you, towards the end, for everything…I let you think there was more between Bianca and me.”

Rose shook her head, her curls drifting across her shoulders. “I could hardly blame you if there was -,”

“You’re not listening,” he muttered, crossly, turning to look at her properly. “I only ever had eyes for you, Weasley, for all the good it did me.”

Rose blinked but held his gaze, pulling that tantalisingly soft bottom lip between her teeth again. With a sigh, Scorpius walked his glass back over to the bookshelf, contemplated another drink but thought better of it – his head was already spinning without the need for further hard liquor.

“And now?” Rose’s quiet voice made him pause, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“What?”

“Well,” she fiddled awkwardly with her hair and tried to find something to fix her gaze on, looking at every nook and cranny of the room, everywhere but at him, “after what happened earlier at the hospital… I was wondering, I mean, if you might still -,”

Scorpius narrowed his eyes, “What are you trying to say, Rose?”

“I’m saying I need a date to Teddy and Victoire’s wedding.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” he ground out, darkly.

“Yes… and no,” she stood, awkwardly, smoothing down her dress and looking every bit as if she didn’t know where to put herself. The crimson blush was back with a vengeance. “Seeing you again has made me realise that there really isn’t any shying away from it, anymore. And, well, after what happened this morning, I suppose it’s fairly obvious that I still have feelings.”

He stared at her – it wasn’t obvious to him, at all. As far as he was concerned, whenever it came to Rose, all bets were off. You could wake up together and fuck all morning, then have her deny any knowledge of your existence to a family member that afternoon.

“‘Feelings’ is a rather non-specific term -,”

“I’m in love with you,” she blurted, standing her ground even as she struggled to hold his gaze. “I always have been, really. I realise that’s probably the last thing you want to hear, and that you more than likely still loathe me, but it’s true.”

Scorpius felt something clawing up the inner walls of his throat. He watched as she hid her trembling fingers amongst the pleats of her skirt. The background noise from the shop below and the street outside seemed to have faded entirely.

Her mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “I hated you for a while too, convinced myself you’d probably been cheating on me with Nott for months. I dug myself into such a deep pit over you that Teddy had to come and pull me out, kicking and screaming. But that’s the funny thing about love and hate, they’re remarkably easy to confuse for one another.”

He knew that all too well, of course. He stared at her – speechless – for a long moment, watching as her anxiety grew with each little rise and fall of her chest. This was surreal, he thought. It was hard to know what to do with oneself when a recurring fantasy actually plays out right in front of you. He was torn between revelling in her obvious vulnerability and wanting to pull her to him and never let go. 

As the seconds stretched on, and Scorpius had still made no move to speak, Rose’s nerves evidently began to get the better of her.

“It’s fine, of course,” she mumbled, snatching up her bag from the floor and fumbling with it in her arms as she made a bee-line for the door. “I understand if you’re not interested…”

Scorpius frowned, his legs moving almost of their own accord as they carried him quickly across the room, his hand clasping over hers where it gripped the door handle and slamming it shut again. Rose flinched and stared up at him from beneath thick lashes, blue eyes wide and wary. Up close, he could practically hear the hammering of her heart, her breath coming hot and fast and tickling the skin just above his collarbone.

“You’re in love with me,” he stared down his nose at her, slate-grey eyes narrowed. He wasn’t sure if it was a question or not.

“Y-yes.”

“And I’m still in love with you,”

“You are?”

He nodded, curtly. “So it would seem. But I’m not doing it again. No more secrets, no more hiding. It’s all or nothing, Weasley, do you understand?”

Rose’s brow furrowed. “But that means -,”

“We tell them, everyone. And they can run whatever background checks they like – although you should warn them it’ll probably take a while. I don’t know if you’re aware, but the Malfoy family has rather a few skeletons in its cupboards.”

Rose stared up at him, eyes scanning his face as if searching for a tell, some sign that this wasn’t actually a cruel and callous joke, as she set to raking her teeth over her bottom lip again. _Merlin_ , Scorpius felt a swirl of need in his lower gut, he was going to have to bite it for her, if she didn’t stop doing that.

“Am I making myself clear, Weasley?” he said, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand, staring down at her hotly.

She arched an eyebrow at his tone, “Crystal...”

It was Rose who moved in first, lifting onto her toes to press her mouth against his. It took Scorpius less than half a second to respond, though, his arms encircling her waist and melding her to him as he deepened the kiss. Heart hammering, he lost himself in the sweep of her tongue, the feel of her hands sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck. Her lips – plump from all her anxious toying – tasted like whisky but her mouth tasted sweet. Scorpius clutched at her waist, his nails biting through the fabric of her dress as he pushed her back until her heels hit the wall.

He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, just to see what all the fuss was about, earning a moan from Rose. He felt her fingers pulling at his shirt, pulling it free of his belt and fumbling for the buttons, but he stalled her momentarily by dipping into the crook of her neck and sucking on a point just below her jaw. He heard her gasp, her hips canting in encouragement.

She was just as he remembered, all the same little pleasure points, delicious buttons to be pushed. It brought back a heady rush of memory and arousal. With a growl, he grabbed for her thigh, tugging it up so that she had no choice but to wrap it around his hips. This opened her up to him and he pressed in on her, grinding himself against the juncture of her thighs and making them both moan, audibly.

“Fuck,” he hissed against her neck, “I haven’t been able to stop imagining this since I found you in just a towel.”

Rose’s breathing quickened at his words and she looked at him through hooded eyes. “Funny, I didn’t know whether to curse you or kiss you that day, either.”

Scorpius answered her with another smothering kiss. Roses’ hands, having made quick work of his shirt buttons, roamed freely across his chest, her nails dragging lightly as they went. He shivered, letting his hand slip beneath her skirt, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin of her thigh and feeling gooseflesh erupt there. Rose whimpered in arousal and he felt his cock strain against the confines of his trousers.

He needed her, _now_.

With a grunt, he pulled her away from the wall, his mouth reclaiming hers even as he moved them swiftly to his desk. Her bum hit the table and she arched into him, the clatter of quills and parchment hitting the floor as he pushed her back, leaning over her as she lay against the desk. He yanked on her dress again, this time pulling it up over her waist. Rose blushed a little, but raised her arms compliantly, allowing him to drag it over her head and toss it to the ground.

Scorpius peered down at her, his chest heaving. She looked glorious, skin flushed and eyes glassy, copper curls laid out in a fan across his desk. He clocked the set of black silk knickers and bra and lifted an eyebrow. That was new, she’d never bothered with matching underwear before.

“Expecting something when you came here, were you?” he muttered, voice thick with want.

He watched her blush creep down between her breasts. “…Hoped, maybe,” she smiled coyly, biting down on that overworked bottom lip again and earning herself a groan from somewhere deep in his chest.

Leaning over her, he trailed a hungry mouth down the column of her neck, reaching behind her to deftly remove her bra. The dusky pink peaks of her nipples were already stood to proud attention and he wasted no time wrapping his lips around one, sucking and nibbling, tongue sweeping in generous lathes as he palmed her other breast roughly. Rose threw her head back, hitting the table with a dull thud, her hands tugging at his hair.

“Oh, _gods…_ Scorpius,” she panted, her hips writhing beneath him.

As he moved his mouth’s attentions to the other nipple, he trailed a hand lightly over her stomach until his fingers brushed the fabric of her knickers. He grunted in approval when he found the material between her legs was already damp with her arousal.

Rose bucked her hips beneath him as he began to draw slow, lazy circles over the wet spot. He released her chest and looked down at her with a smug smirk. Her eyes flashed, warningly.

“Don’t tease,” she muttered, even as her hips pushed against his hand, searching for a little more friction.

Eyes never leaving hers, he slipped a finger beneath the lace edge of her underwear, sliding it through her slick folds before pressing into her easily. He watched her eyelids flutter shut as he added another finger, pumping in and out and curling them within her, just so. She was hot and unbelievably wet, and his cock was practically screaming, still trapped by layers of clothing. He removed his fingers from her – earning a whimper as he left her empty – and quickly divested himself of his belt and trousers, kicking them aside. Looping a finger into the waistband of her knickers, he pulled them down over her knees, leaving her completely naked below him.

There was an overwhelming temptation just to spread her knees and thrust into her right there and then – she was certainly ready enough for him. But, instead, after giving himself a few quick strokes just to relieve the mounting tension, Scorpius dropped to his knees. His fingers found her entrance again, parting her folds and revealing her most sensitive nub to his hungry eyes. Leaning forward, he lightly licked her clit with the very tip of his tongue, his fingers sinking into her rhythmically. He heard her breath hitch as he did it a second time, letting his tongue lazily circle her nub in time with the movements of his hand.

Rose’s knees were trembling and he used his other hand to push them gently apart, opening her up to him, as he took her clit between his lips and sucked gently.

“ _Oh_!” Rose cried out. “I’m going to -, oh Scor -…” her words became unintelligible as her body went into spasm. He could feel her inner walls trembling around his fingers as her orgasm wracked through her and he kept up his ministrations, letting her ride it through to the end.

Not even giving her a moment to recover, Scorpius stood quickly and positioned himself between her thighs. He took himself in hand, rubbing his swollen cockhead between her folds, before pushing himself inside of her with one harsh thrust.

A strangled groan was torn from his lips, as Rose cried out beneath him. He held himself there for a moment, buried to the hilt, his forearm shaking with the strength it took to hold himself up above her.

_Fuck Merlin_ , she was tight, and felt even better than he remembered – how was that possible?

Rose was panting, taking in deep gulps of air that made her breasts shake delectably. She rolled her hips, urging him to move, and Scorpius felt his eyes roll back in his head. Part of him wanted to take his time, to make love to her slowly and remind them both of what they’d been missing for so long – but as his cock twitched inside of her and he felt his control slipping, he realised now was definitely not the time.

Gripping her hips roughly, he pulled back, withdrawing almost to his full length before slamming back inside of her. A shudder wracked through Rose’s shoulders as he set a brutal pace, burying himself completely within her, driving home with each snap of his hips. He bent his head to hers, swallowing her cries of pleasure in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. His hair was beginning to stick to his forehead with sweat and he could already feel her walls beginning to tighten around him, building her to another release. 

“Fuck…Rose,” he ground out, shifting the angle of her hips and feeling himself slide in deeper still. He pounded into her, pouring their years of tensions and frustrations into his movements and wondering how he’d managed to go so many years without her. She felt exquisite, she gripped him perfectly with each thrust, as if she were made for him and he for her.

Rose rocked her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, the sound of her gasps and his grunts and the creaking of the desk beneath them filling the room. He could sense she was close again, her walls tightening around him and making him grow impossibly harder within her. She came suddenly, with a low and keening moan, her back arching off the table as she dragged Scorpius under the tidal wave of pleasure with her. The feel of her fluttering around his cock was enough to make him lose his mind. With a shout, he slammed into her, losing his rhythm as he spilled himself completely inside of her.

He collapsed on top of her, a heap of limbs and sweat, and planted lazy, wet kisses against the curve of her neck, his hands lost in her hair. Rose turned her head, bringing her mouth to his in a languid kiss and smiled at him.

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she muttered, when she’d finally got her breath back. “I really have missed you.”

Scorpius simply grinned, too exhausted to move and comfortably nestled within her. He planned to ensure they did that every single day, until they made up for all of their lost time. Time lost to youthful stupidity and pride.

He coiled an arm around her waist and kissed her, more softly this time. “I love you, Rose.”

She sighed contentedly against him, “I love you too, and I’m sorry I ever let you think otherwise.”

******

******

Harry Potter did not like Thursdays.

Thursdays were one of his ‘official office days’, when he was unofficially chained to his desk and the mountain of paperwork that rather tarnished the deal of becoming Head of the DMLE. Still, he counted himself lucky, his predecessor had barely made it out into the field at all. By convincing the board to allow him to hire a number of deputies, Harry had ensured that he was only trapped indoors _some_ of the week. And some of that week was a Thursday.

A sharp knock at his office door broke his concentration and he cast a wandless _Alohamora_ , allowing entry to his scheduled two o’ clock appointment.

“Mr Malfoy!” he set down the file he’d been reading, peering up at the younger man cheerfully as he entered the office. “Pleasure to see you again. I take it you set up this meeting to discuss my offer of a job?”

Scorpius shifted awkwardly, “Not exactly, Sir, no.”

“Oh?”

Rose stepped out from behind him, cheeks pink but stare determined. Harry started at the sight of her and blinked quickly, carefully schooling his features into a look of calculated interest.

Rose cleared her throat. “Uncle Harry, I’m here because – I mean, _we’re_ here because…” she swallowed nervously. Harry watched – eyebrows creeping towards his slightly receding hairline – as Scorpius entwined a hand with hers, giving it a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

Rose squared her shoulders: “I’d like to file an official request to have Scorpius Malfoy vetted as my romantic partner.”

She spoke as if she were reading from sort of script. Knowing his niece, she’d probably prepared one especially for the occasion. Scarily like her mother sometimes, that one. 

Harry stared between the two of them, making a valiant but unsuccessful effort to close his mouth. “Er… right. Right, I see,” he sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Can I ask, er, how long this has been going on?”

Rose glanced up at Scorpius and smiled, slyly. “About five years, technically.”

Harry blinked, gaze darting between the two of them and rather at a loss for words. He watched the exchange of hidden smiles and meaningful looks and shook his head in amazement.

“I see,” he said again and sank back in his chair. “Right, well, there’s some consent forms for you to fill in Rosie and as for you, Mr Malfoy…I suppose you’d better take a seat. Tell me, have you ever experienced the effects of veritaserum before?”

And bugger it all, Harry thought as he stared at the young couple in front of him, now he owed Hermione ten galleons. She thought something like this might be on the cards after they’d found them at the hospital together. Five years though… now that was a surprise.

And, oh Christ, Harry winced, Ron was going to have a conniption.

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading and being along for the adventure! The next project is another Rose/Scor but is a little ways away from posting for now. Stay safe out there people! ET.


End file.
